


Warming up to 98.6°F (Part 1)

by Ephermeralk



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephermeralk/pseuds/Ephermeralk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared’s dead, just like the majority of the population. After saving Jensen, a human, from being eaten by his fellow zombies in an abandoned hospital, Jared takes Jensen back to his home. As the hours turn into days, Jared starts craving the taste of brains less, instead finding purpose in helping Jensen survive. Then small things start happening: he gets cold, he blushes, and he can even talk in full sentences. It appears that his growing feelings for Jensen might be enough to bring Jared back to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:OMG guys, this fic has PLOT (I know, I know, I stole it from a movie, BUT STILL THOUGH, _plot_ ). Five million thanks to my lovely betas who edited this entire monster [](http://linvro21.livejournal.com/profile)[**linvro21**](http://linvro21.livejournal.com/) and [](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/profile)[**sleepypercy**](http://sleepypercy.livejournal.com/) , I owe both of you big time! And of course to [](http://alexisjane.livejournal.com/profile)[**alexisjane**](http://alexisjane.livejournal.com/) for the absolutely gorgeous art, please go run and tell her how wonderful it is [here](http://alexisjane.livejournal.com/65301.html)
> 
> A/N 2: Written for [](http://spn-cinema.livejournal.com/profile)[**spn_cinema**](http://spn-cinema.livejournal.com/)'s challenge, based on the movie _Warm Bodies_  
>   
> 

  
[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jared140_zpsaa23a77a.jpg.html)

J shuffles down a walkway lined by carnival stands filled with overstuffed bears and deflated balloons. The bright red and white stripes adorning each booth contrast starkly against the darkening sky. Wet soon, J mutters aloud. That’s about as complicated as his sentences get these days.

He doesn’t stop to throw darts or knock down cans; no one else does either. Not anymore. Everyone just shuffles, sometimes stumbling, occasionally grunting, and always ravenous.

J keeps walking.

He wanders through a house of mirrors on the way back to his home, a dilapidated trailer located just outside of the hubbub. J reaches out to touch one of his many reflections. He looks like he’s in his early twenties, still a bit on the scrawny side, but taller than most, with slightly shaggy brown hair and tilted hazel eyes. If it wasn’t for his overly pale skin highlighted by blue tinged lips and extremities, J thinks that he’d probably be considered attractive.

The dull red hoodie that he’s wearing contrasts starkly with his skin tone. There’s a dirt stained grey shirt underneath it, which comes down over a pair of slim fitting dark blue jeans, and worn cowboy boots. Judging by his clothing choice, J thinks he was probably in the post-college unemployed stage when he died. He’s dead now. Or undead. Whatever. He remains mobile and hungry.

Removing his hand from the mirror, J slowly shuffles out of the fun house and towards his home. When he finally arrives—and he makes decent time by zombie standards—there’s a man around his age with spiky blond hair and bright blue eyes sitting on his door step. This guy—J doesn’t know his name, just like he can’t remember his own—is the closest thing he’s got to a friend. Sometimes they wander around the carnival together, both with equally stilted gaits, accidentally bumping into each other as they navigate through the maze of non-operational Ferris wheels and carousels without purpose.

On days after they’ve eaten, when their bodies are responding slightly better than normal, they have whole conversations consisting of individual words. Today though, his friend’s got a gleam in his eye, as he stands up and puts a hand onto J’s shoulder. J smiles to the best of his ability.

“Eat?” J questions his friend.

“Eat,” his companion nods in response.

They shuffle out of the carnival together, picking up others as they head towards the city in search of food.

 

[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jensen140_zps8ec79012.jpg.html)

Jensen rubs the toe of his army boot into the ground. He’s trying to distract himself from his father’s image that’s coming through via video-feed, down to the small group of volunteers on the ground. It’s Danneel and him, plus two others whom he barely recognizes. Stealth is the key to a successful critical supply run.

 

“I know that you’re all well aware of how important this mission is to our continued existence,” Jensen’s father starts off, “But I feel the need to emphasize that if you do not succeed—if you fail to bring back the necessary antibiotics and medical supplies—your friends and families lives will be at stake should they become injured or ill.”

Jensen moves closer to Danneel. She’s standing at attention: gun over her shoulder, chest out, and fire-red hair contained by a simple braid down the back of her head. Jensen tunes out his father for a moment as he focuses on Danneel. Her beauty, her strength, and her tireless dedication to humanity. The fact that she’s chosen him as her partner.

He reaches his hand out. Jensen’s fingers brush against Danneel’s, seeking out physical reassurance before they head into the dead zone. She shakes him off, sparing him a brief, annoyed glance before focusing her attention back to the screen.

Jensen’s father is in the middle of a dramatic pause before he continues with, “That being said, I want to thank each of you for volunteering for this assignment. It’s not easy to risk your lives and leave your families and loved ones behind. I wish you all a speedy and uneventful mission, with a successful trip home. Again, thank you from all of us, and Godspeed.”

The reinforced steel walls open up, and they leave in single file, Danneel on point as they trade in the world of the living for that of the dead.

 

\--

They make it past abandoned buildings and through empty streets, ending up at the hospital pharmacy in record time. Once inside, Jensen starts shoving any antibiotics he can get his hands on into his backpack. It doesn’t take long before he hears a noise; a metal clang resounding through the hallway.

“Everyone stop. I think I heard something,” he says tensely.

After a brief moment of silence, Danneel continues to gather needles, while the others root around through drawers of pain medications.  
A distinct crash echoes from a floor beneath them. Noises in the dead zone never mean anything good.

“We’ve gotta bail,” he states. “Let’s grab what we have, and get out.”

Danneel puts her delicate, pale hand against his chest. The promise ring he put on her finger a few months back catches on a stray beam of light. “Not so fast, Jensen. We haven’t gotten everything that we came for yet. Besides, it’s probably just a rat.”

“C’mon, Danni. You don’t know that—besides, it’s not worth risking our lives on that chance.”

“Yeah, well, run if you want, Jensen. But I’m staying here until we’ve found all the antibiotics that our doctors need. I won’t be responsible for a child’s death from an ear infection because I was too scared to do my goddamn job.”

Jensen sighs. She’s so passionate, so brave, and so _fierce;_ these individual characteristics are fundamental pieces of Danneel Harris. Jensen just wishes she had a little more sense of self-preservation too.

“Fine, we’ll work faster then. I want to be out of here in under ten.”  
Danneel smiles and runs her hand down the front of his shirt, hooking her thumb into the waist of his pants.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Jensen says, willing his arousal down. It dissipates, albeit reluctantly. “You two in the corner. We’re out of here ASAP, got it?”

They mutter in acquiescence, and Jensen turns back towards sorting intravenous and oral medications by drug classification. Jensen’s still hard at work when Danneel finishes gathering supplies. She stops by for long enough to give him a quick kiss on the cheek and mutter a “Thanks, babe. I owe you one when we get back,” before climbing onto a table and pointing her gun at the door.

“I thought you weren’t worried,” Jensen inquires.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t concerned,” Danneel retorts, “I said I wasn’t scrapping our mission. There’s a difference.”

The distinct feel of objects colliding vibrates through the floor and up Jensen’s legs. This time it’s not outside or downstairs. That noise on the other side of the door, Jensen’s certain it’s not a stray cat.  
Zombies. Jensen thinks. Coming to devour us all.

“Positions, everyone!” Danneel shouts, as she clicks off the safety on her semi-automatic. Jensen drops down into a crouch behind a counter in the middle of the room, his finger on the trigger of his own weapon.

“Remember,” Danneel continues, “aim for the head, don’t hesitate. Double tap if you’re unsure, and we’ll all get home before dinner.”

Jensen holds his breath as silence falls; he can taste the stillness on his tongue.

After another anticipation filled minute, the double doors burst open, and a small horde of zombies pushes forward. Jensen hears Danneel’s gun start firing. He follows her lead by sliding out of his hiding space to take down one zombie with a bullet straight to the head, before moving towards the back of the room, shooting into the mass of dead bodies.

 

[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jared140_zpsaa23a77a.jpg.html)

Time shouldn’t matter, because dead people don’t have jobs, or kids, or functions to attend. Still, the rain has come and gone by the time that J and his followers arrive in the city. Just like a skeleton, it’s whittled down to the bare bones of empty, unused buildings and scattered, abandoned cars.

Being dead isn’t too bad, all things considered, but J wishes he could walk faster than the rat scurrying down the street in front of him. Taking twenty minutes to shuffle down a single city block isn’t exactly awe-inspiring.

J’s pointed nose twitches when they reach the outside of the hospital. The smell of life, of blood coursing through arteries, assaults the remnants of J’s brain. He knows without doubt that his hunger will not be slaked until he’s ripped into flesh and gorged on the remains of his hunt.

It’s not that he particularly wants to maim and kill. He’s simply running on instinct. All creatures, even the undead, need to eat. Perpetuating the continuous death cycle is just another unfortunate fact about being a zombie.

J brings his arm up with jerked movements to point at the building.  
“F…ood. In…side…,” he manages to say.

 

\--

Chaos ensues as J steps through the open doors.

He scouts the room, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him. J notes that a swarm of his companions have overtaken two humans in the far corner. Towards the back, a man and a zombie tussle for dominance on the floor. J thinks that they’re well matched; it could go either way.

The real prize though, is the slender, ginger-haired girl shooting unrepentantly at his would-be friends. Saliva pools in his mouth as he imagines the taste of her potent blood down his throat. J circles around her slowly, careful to avoid her deadly aim as she takes out the majority of his cohort. Crouching down behind the counter that she’s standing on, he waits for her to reload her ammunition. While the girl’s attention is focused on her gun, J reaches up slowly, taking his time to avoid any awkward movements, and then hobbles her effectively by grabbing her ankle and pulling her off the table.

She tumbles down and breaks like a porcelain doll. Cracked, yet not quite irreparable.

A high pitched shriek follows her descent to the floor. It hurts J’s ears. He hears a cry of, _“Danneel”_ from across the room, and he runs his hand down the girl’s stunning face to where her jaw which is still moving, although possibly unhinged, as she attempts to gasp for a breath. He snaps her neck quickly; he’s too hungry to play.

J knows he shouldn’t indulge. If he doesn’t, this once beautiful, lovely girl will rise just like everyone else. And having another fellow zombie is always a good thing. But J’s starving, and he can’t help himself. The brains are the best part.

He bites into her partially bashed in skull. Once he’s through the shards of bone, he can dig in properly; human brains have the consistency of congealed oatmeal. He moans with pleasure as the taste hits his tongue, enjoying the brief moment before he’s transported away from his meal and into the warm, delicate memory of the girl he just killed.

Light filters in through the windows of the school bus where J’s standing. He’s backed up against the steering wheel by the man he saw fighting with a zombie back on the hospital floor. The guy is easily five years younger than the aged version of him that J encountered earlier.

A mixture of red and brown stubble rubs against his skin as the man kisses his neck. The contact lights his skin on fire, and J can’t remember ever feeling so warm.

“Jensen,” he hears his own voice say, rough with arousal. “I need more.”

J feels Jensen press his erection against his own jeans. Jensen reaches up to slide his hand under J’s shirt and rubs his thumb over J’s nipple.

J groans.

“I’m so glad that you’re all mine, baby,” Jensen says.

Jensen looks directly into his eyes and J smiles when he sees how green Jensen’s eyes appear under the presence of the summer sun. They legitimately sparkle.

He grabs Jensen’s hand to lead it down underneath his jeans, when he feels Jensen’s fingers play with a ring on his right hand. He looks down to see what looks like a diamond shining brightly, and wonders if they’re engaged.

“I love you so much, sugar,” Jensen says into his lips.

J isn’t sure if it’s the memory or himself that’s smiling. He’d like to think that it’s him. To his unused face muscles, smiling is a mixture of pain and pleasure. Still, he’d take the pain any day in return for a feeling that isn’t apathy or hunger.

The flashback doesn’t last long enough in J’s opinion. Far too soon, he’s back in his former position, huddling over the corpse of a girl. He wants to keep savoring her thoughts and memories; J supposes eating brains in order to replay memories gives a ludicrously literal meaning to the phrase ‘living vicariously through someone’. He holds the rest of her brain in his hands, examining it. A little heavier than average. A nice ratio of the white to grey parts. It should last him a couple of days, he thinks as he stuffs the remaining sections of her brain into the pocket of his hoodie for later.

J’s about to get up, when he sees a spark of light emanate from the girl’s now limp hand. That’s a nice ring, he thinks, and in a spur of the moment decision he pulls the band of metal off her finger and places it into his pocket with the other pieces of her.

 

[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jensen140_zps8ec79012.jpg.html)

“Danneel!” Jensen yells through the melee, calling her name like a broken record since he heard the scream over the sound of gunshots.Jensen turns around, trying to find Danni, but he doesn’t see her anywhere. Instead, he’s thrown to the floor as a dead man tackles him from behind.

“Fuck you,” he grunts, trying to save most of his energy for pinning down the zombie. “Not gonna eat my brains today, you dead bastard.”

After a few moments of grappling, Jensen manages to finagle his way on top of the zombie long enough to pull out his gun and cover the floor with its brain material.

“Don’t know how they’re so goddamn strong when they’re not even alive,” Jensen mutters to himself as he reaches down to massage his leg.

He must have pulled a muscle in the scuffle, because he’s having trouble trying to stand. He collapses in pain, maneuvering himself until his back is flush against the wall, hand still on his gun. Danni hasn’t reappeared at her former position atop the table. Sounds of chewing reach his ears while those of clips emptying have ceased. Shit.

A young male zombie walks slowly towards him, slightly hunched, mouth and hands dripping with bright red blood. A single drop falls directly onto Jensen’s boot and starts to sink in through the layer of dust. Jensen doesn’t want to think about the former owner of those red blood cells. Sometimes it’s best not to know.

Jensen doesn’t even bother using his remaining energy struggling to get up, instead he just re-adjusts his grip on the gun. He stays still as the zombie bends its long legs to crouch down in front of him. It looks directly into his eyes. Jensen thinks fleetingly that its high cheekbones and hazel eyes must have entrapped both women and men, back when the zombie was a person. Too bad it’s dead.

“I’d say sorry, but I’m really, _really_ not,” Jensen states.

Helped by adrenaline coursing through his system, Jensen brings his gun up until it’s pointing directly at the center of the zombie’s forehead, and pulls the trigger.

They both look surprised when the gun doesn’t fire. He tries again. Nothing. He must have run out of ammunition. Double shit.

The dead boy slowly raises one of its hands up to Jensen’s face, and Jensen expects to feel his neck snap at any moment. Instead, it smears a mixture of human blood, organs, and fluid across his cheeks.

Jensen forces himself not to vomit.

The zombie extends its hand, and makes a concerted effort to say, “Come.”

If he had a choice, Jensen would choose not to die, thank you very much. But between dying now, surrounded by zombies, or at an indeterminable time later, he’ll pick the latter option. He lets the zombie pull him off the floor, and they exit the building still holding hands.

 

\--

 

When they arrive at their destination, which is apparently a carnival at the edge of town, Jensen can’t help but think that it’s creepy as fuck. Some of the zombies are still mindlessly continuing their jobs from life, pushing levers, or holding their hands out, trying to collect ride tickets as others pass by on their way to nowhere. Every fiber in Jensen’s body shrieks at him to run the other direction. Something he should have done back when the girl he wanted to marry was murdered and his gun had run out of ammo.

Shock. It’s the only logical explanation, now that Jensen’s slowly returning to himself. There’s no other reason for him to have allowed a zombie to drag him from the hospital and out of the city. He could technically still run, but his new friend has both a literal and metaphorical death grip on his hand. Hopefully the future will hold better escaping prospects.

Jensen follows the zombie inside of an old, worn down trailer with plastic wood siding. It opens the door for him. Jensen thinks it’s a little weird that his zombie’s got manners.

“This where you live?” he questions roughly.

The zombie nods in response.

When he enters, it’s not at all what Jensen would have imagined, if anyone had ever asked him to describe the interior design of a young male zombie’s living quarters.

The zombie stares at him as Jensen runs his hands over snow globes, ships encased in bottles, and brightly colored blankets strewn over the room, along with a few oversized stuffed animals. It points to the couch.

“Sss…it,” it gets out after a moment. Jensen obliges.  
He watches the zombie shuffle over to a turntable in the back. It struggles with it’s fine motor skills for a moment before the needle catches in the right place on the record. The opening lines to Renegade float out into the small room.

Oh mama, I’m in fear for my life from the long arm of the law  
Law man has put an end to my running and I’m so far from my home…

“Zombie with a good taste in music,” he jokes out loud to lighten the mood, “Who woulda thunk?”

The zombie tries to smile. It mostly just looks like it had a stroke, but Jensen thinks he can see dimples trying to poke through. It covers him with a patchwork blanket made from various paisley fabrics, and then sits on the floor, a decent length away from him. _Keeping his distance_ , Jensen thinks. Like the zombie is worried that he’s the rabid animal in their current situation.

Despite being far from home himself, Jensen’s slowly nodding off on the couch, when a thought comes into his head.

“Hey,” Jensen starts off with. The zombie looks up at him. “You got a name?”

It looks at him with dazed eyes. He tries again.

“My name is Jensen,” he says, pointing to his chest. “What’s _your name_?” he asks pointing at the zombie.

It ponders the question for a few moments before stumbling over the letter, “G-g-g-J.”

“Your name starts with J, too?” he asks.

The zombie nods.

“John?” he asks. The zombie shakes it’s head.

Jensen tries again, “Not John then. How about Jeff?”

Another no.

“Jason? Jeremy? Jasper?”

All no’s.

Jensen gives up. “I’m gonna call you ‘Jared,’” he states.

Jared scrunches up his brow, indicating that Jared’s not his name either.

“Look, I know it’s not perfect, but I had this hamster once. I was probably like eight at the time. Anyways, I named him Jared, and he died. Some sort of virus. Fine one day, gone the next. I really, really wanted him to come back, but he didn’t. He was my only hamster, and I loved him. So I’m gonna call you Jared after the little guy.”

Jared raises his eyebrows after his last statement.

“Yeah, yeah, I know you’re not little. But your name starts with J, you’ve got brown shaggy hair, and you’re dead. Deal with it, Jared,” he retorts.  
Jared shrugs his shoulders in defeat, and Jensen can’t help when the corners of his mouth turn up at the edges for the first time since meeting him.

 

  
[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jared140_zpsaa23a77a.jpg.html)

  
Jared watches Jensen sleep. Zombies don’t sleep. Ever. _Don’t be creepy_ , Jared thinks to himself as he stares at the unconscious form of Jensen in front of him. He abandons the ‘pretending not to act sketchy’ vibe after a few minutes but hey, he’s part of the undead. Creepy comes with the title.

Jared finds himself caught between the urge to eat—Jensen does smell spectacular after all—and a completely new desire to wrap himself around Jensen’s warm body. He wants to inhale the scent of Jensen’s hair and run his hands underneath Jensen’s shirt where Jared imagines pale skin that stretches tightly over visible ribs. Jared twitches as he tries to smother his feelings. They staunchly refuse to dissipate.

He settles for sitting back against a small linen closet and listening to the soft, rhythmic sounds of Jensen breathing. Hours later, when the scent of fresh blood has permeated through all of his other thoughts and sensations, Jared realizes he won’t be able to control himself much longer. His burgeoning attachment towards Jensen has started to fade as his thirst grows stronger. He reaches over and touches Jensen lightly to make sure he’s asleep. Jensen doesn’t move.

Reaching into his hoodie, he pulls out a squashed piece of grey matter. Now that he’s not in a rush, he lets the flavor blossom on his tongue before swallowing.

_He’s in a school classroom, this time. He recognizes the back of Jensen’s head, sitting a few rows in front of him, even before Jensen turns around to flash a full-fledged smile at him._

_If Jared wasn’t already deceased and reliving Jensen’s dead girlfriend’s memories, he’d have fainted. Or popped a boner. Instead, he mimics Jensen’s exuberant expression, and Jensen’s grin opens up even more in return. Jared hopes his face doesn’t split open at the seams._

_When he looks back down, there’s a little slip of paper on his desk. He opens it. Jensen’s scribbled ‘Will you go to prom with me?’ with two boxes underneath. One for yes, the other for no._

_He reluctantly checks the ‘no’ button, and writes underneath ‘I want to, but there’s a mission heading into the dead zone to gather gasoline and other things that night. I can’t not go :(‘_

_Jared watches Jensen’s face fall for a moment, before he starts scribbling furiously. When Jared gets the piece of paper back, it reads, ‘No problem. I’ll come with you. And when we get back, we’ll have our own dance. I stole some whiskey from Dad’s cabinet, and we can listen to good music. Just the two of us.’_

_‘Sounds like a date,’ he replies._

_When the bell rings, Jensen saunters up to him._

_“Can I walk you to your next class?” he asks. “I’m good at carrying books and telling jokes.”_

_“Hmmm,” he pretends to take a moment to think about it. Like he hasn’t known Jensen forever. “I dunno. Tell me a joke and I’ll decide if it’s good enough to let you accompany me.”_

_“Deal,” Jensen says quickly, but then takes a moment to think._

_“What did one wall say to the other?” he asks._

_“Dunno, Jensen. What do walls ‘say’ to each other?”_

_“Meet you at the corner!” he replies laughing._

_It’s not the best joke ever, but watching Jensen throw his neck back as he laughs is worth the poor wordplay._

_“Are you good at holding hands, too?” Jared asks shyly, and he feels a blush creep up his cheeks._

_“The best,” Jensen responds, and reaches down to lace Jared’s fingers with his own. He’s right about that, as it turns out._

 

\--

Jared comes back to reality shortly before Jensen awakens. For the first time that Jared can remember, he feels slightly cold, like his hoodie might not be enough to heat his animated corpse. He looks over to the sleeping body on the couch. Jensen looks warm. Jared fights the urge to climb underneath the blanket and fit his body next to Jensen’s slightly smaller frame.

Jared wrings his hands and looks away as Jensen opens his eyes and stretches, trying to give him a moment of privacy. _Don’t be creepy,_ he tells himself again. He’d really like Jensen to stay.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any coffee?” Jensen asks him after he’s maneuvered himself into an upright position.

Jared shakes his head.

“Well, that concludes my trip to zombie paradise,” Jensen says sarcastically. “Anyways, thanks for not eating me, I truly appreciate it, but I really have to head back home.”

There’s a tightness in Jared’s chest. He’s got to—no, _he needs to_ —keep Jensen with him. Jared actually feels more than hunger and a mild sense of purposelessness when Jensen’s here with him, next to him. Even if he can’t quite put his finger on the emotion.

So Jared shakes his head again and places his blue-tinged hand over Jensen’s heart. “Not… safe... yet.”

“When is it going to be safe, Jared?” he asks. “I can’t stay here forever.”

Jared thinks that forever sounds like a pretty good idea. “A… few days?” he says. It’s more of a question than a statement. Jensen’s shoulders slump down in response, and he gives a weary sigh.

“Fine. I can wait a few days. But I need food.”

Jared scrounges around, through piles of papers and knick-knacks before unearthing a giant gummy worm. It’s heavy, more than a few pounds, and Jared’s sure that it should feed Jensen for days to come. He proudly hands it to Jensen, who raises his eyebrows. He’s clearly not impressed.

“Seriously?” Jensen asks him.

Jared shrugs. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with the five feet of ribbed, green and yellow crystallized sugar. Jensen tries to shake it in front of his face as if to make a point. The oversized worm lies still in Jensen’s hand. Jared’s a little unsure at what Jensen’s trying to convey to him; he wonders if Jensen realizes that it’s not supposed to be alive.

Moving forward, Jared grabs the far end of the candy and brings it up to his mouth and takes a long lick. He shudders briefly at the gross taste of pure sugar on his tongue, but tries to smile at Jensen, encouraging him to lick the worm just like Jared showed him.

Jensen sighs after Jared’s finished with his display. “It’s stale, Jared. See how it doesn’t wiggle or move around. It’s supposed to be pliable and chewy,” Jensen continues to explain. “Here, watch this,” he says and then proceeds to throw the worm onto the fake tile floor. It shatters into pieces. Jared’s eyes widen and he whimpers softly at the sight of the food that he procured relegated to a mess across his floor. Jensen bends down to pick up each shard, and then proceeds to throw them all in the trash can.

“Sorry dude, it just wasn’t edible.”

Jared makes another choked noise before raiding the closet in search of something that Jensen will be able to eat. All that he’s able to find is a sealed plastic package of regular sized sour gummy worms. He presents them to Jensen, his hand slightly trembling. He shifts his weight back and forth between his feet as he anxiously awaits Jensen’s reaction. Reluctantly, Jensen takes the package. At least he doesn’t dump out all the worms on the floor this time.

“You realize these don’t qualify as food, right? I mean, sure they’ve survived the zombie apocalypse intact, but they’ve got _car wax_ listed as an ingredient.”

“I’ll… go… look,” he says. “You… stay… Jensen… not… safe… outside.”

Jensen puts his feet up on the coffee table and rips open the packet of candy. He stretches the first few that he picks up, testing their pliability. Eventually he decides that these ones are worthy of being consumed. As the first one slides through Jensen’s red lips, Jared can’t help but wish he was one of those worms, sliding its way into Jensen’s pretty, pink mouth.

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jared140_zpsaa23a77a.jpg.html)

When Jared returns, arms laden with packages proclaiming ‘Beef jerky!’ and ‘Astronaut ice cream... the best food you’ll find in Space!’, Jensen’s fallen back to sleep on the couch. Jared fails miserably at coordinating holding food and closing the door quietly, which in turn leads to Jensen startling awake as the door slams with a _bang_. His gun points directly at Jared’s head.

Jared immediately drops his acquisitions on the floor, and slowly raises his hands, palms facing forward. He knows the gun’s empty because Jensen would have shot him point blank back at the hospital if he’d had a bullet. But this isn’t about weapons, it’s about trust, and Jared needs Jensen to realize that he comes in peace. So to speak. Or, at least, he comes bearing human food and no desire to eat Jensen.

After a moment of eye narrowing, Jensen lowers his gun, and rubs sleep out of the corners of his eyes.

“Sorry about that, Jared. It’s just… you could have been a random zombie. One that didn’t want to feed me gummy worms,” he stops to look over at the scattered packages on the floor “and… is that astronaut ice cream? Jeez, you must have had a sweet tooth when you were alive.”

Jared shrugs and bends down slowly to pick up the food from the floor before depositing it on Jensen’s lap. He ventures to sit a foot or so closer to Jensen this morning. Busy tearing his way into the packages of jerky, Jensen doesn’t seem to notice.

“You know,” Jensen starts by saying. Jared redirects his attention from Jensen’s mouth up to his eyes. Flecks of gold embedded in Jensen’s green irises captivate Jared. Now that he’s noticed, he can’t seem to look away. He waits patiently for Jensen to continue. It takes a while, as if Jensen’s struggling to gather his thoughts. Jared can relate to that. He reaches over and puts his hand lightly on Jensen’s knee. Apparently it’s the right reaction, because Jensen gives him a small smile.

“I wanted to marry this girl. I’d known her my whole life. We grew up together. Our moms were friends when they were pregnant, and we played together as kids, until one day, we realized that we didn’t want anyone else but each other."

Jensen stops, pausing to run a hand over the back of his neck. He swallows, trying to keep the tears down.

Jared stays still until Jensen continues with, “That girl. Her name was Danni. Danneel Harris… and… she died, Jared. She was murdered back at the hospital where you found me—and I should be shocked, or grief stricken, or bloodthirsty for revenge. But I’m not. Somehow, it’s like a part of me knew that it would always end like this. But if she was destined to die, then what am I still doing here? Shouldn’t I have died back at the hospital too?”

Jared grips Jensen’s knee a little tighter, as a tear threatens to fall from Jensen’s eye. “Why me, Jared? Why do I get to live, how’s that fair?”

“It’s… not fair… Jensen,” Jared strings together. He feels like he’s really starting to make progress with his sentences lately. “But I’m glad… I’m glad you… are here… with me.” Jared finishes strong, and mentally congratulates himself.

He’s definitely getting this whole speaking thing down.

“Thanks, Jared,” Jensen says while blinking his tears back into his body, “you’re a good listener.”

Jared grins, which in turn makes Jensen grimace. “You’ve gotta stop doing that though. Seriously, it’s like a mix of psychotic and dead, possibly with a little bit of manic clown thrown in. And trust me when I say that straight up dead is a much better look on you.”

Jared pouts, until Jensen picks up a guitar stashed in the corner of the trailer. “Know how to sing, Jared?” he asks before tuning the instrument, and starting up an acoustic version of Led Zeppelin's _Stairway to Heaven._

\--

Jensen finds his way through parts of his home that Jared never even knew existed. He digs through the record collection until he finds an original _Bob Dylan_ vinyl that he plays on repeat. He pulls out a pale blue ruffled suit from the closet that Jared’s never seen and tries it on. He asks Jared if it’s his style, and Jared says _yes_ because he’s pretty sure that Jensen could make a potato sack look like the height of fashion. He refrains from mentioning that he’d rather see Jensen without clothes.

Jared follows him into what used to be the bedroom after Jensen’s back in his jeans and worn tee-shirt, and now that he remembers that humans need to sleep, he feels bad that Jensen had slept on the couch. It must have been uncomfortable. Jensen doesn’t question him though. Instead he roots around underneath the bed until he pulls out an old-school skin magazine and a pair of fake zebra fur handcuffs. He laughs until Jared’s worried that his lungs might collapse. Despite his fit of laughter, Jared notices that Jensen doesn’t return either item. Huh.

After he’s ransacked the bedroom, Jensen finds his way into the copious quantities of alcohol that Jared’s never bothered drinking. Jensen digs into the liquor cabinet above the fridge with reckless abandon. He whistles as he pulls out an unopened bottle.

“Hey Jared. Ever had ‘Johnny Walker Gold’?”

Jared shakes his head.

“Use your words, Jared. Can’t have the whiskey until you speak,” Jensen sing-songs as he pours a few inches of the amber liquid into a pair of matching mason jars.

“Don’t think so... Jensen.” Jared says. He likes the way that Jensen’s name sounds on his lips.

“Atta boy.” Jensen flashes him a grin while handing him the glass, and Jared feels like melting into the carpet. _Heat,_ Jared thinks. _I feel warm._ Warm tingles, Jared decides.

Jensen raises his glass up, and Jared’s momentarily confused. He just stands there, staring, until Jensen coughs, breaking the silence.

“Us humans, we touch our glasses together before we drink. For a show of good faith and solidarity,” Jensen explains.

“Oh.” Jared doesn’t know what to say. He’s not human, but Jensen seems to want him to participate in his ritual anyway. He raises his glass, which Jensen clinks against his own before saying, “Bottoms up,” and downing the fluid in one continuous drink.

Jared’s so transfixed watching Jensen swallow the whiskey and following its path down Jensen’s throat, that he forgets his own drink. He lifts the glass up to his nose after Jensen’s licked the last errant drops of whiskey off of his lips. Jared grimaces. It smells horrible, not at all like the smooth, velvety-metallic taste of blood, and Jared tries not to dry heave on the spot.

Deep throated laughter fills the small room as Jensen snatches the drink and empties it in another single go. Jared scrunches up his nose at the way the alcohol infiltrates Jensen’s mouth.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jared. I’m on a forced vacation in fucking zombieland. I’ll drink all the Johnny Walker I want. And you can go play outside with your zombie friends if you don’t like it.”

Jared shakes his head. “I’ll stay.”

Jensen laughs again. “Of course you will.” He pours himself another glass and then goes into the bathroom to rummage around. The final frontier of the trailer that Jensen had failed to conquer in the afternoon. When he comes back, he’s holding a pair of clippers in his right hand.

“Can I?”

“Me…?” Jared asks, a little bit unsure of what Jensen’s really asking.

“Well, between you and me, you’re the only one with long hair,” Jensen responds. “And to be honest, I’m not quite sure that I’m ready to provide my barber services to the rest of your zombie pals yet.”

Jared runs a hand through his hair. He has a faint feeling of attachment to the brown strands, as if they might have been a point of pride, back when he was alive.  
“It’d look great, Jared. Much less upkeep. More time for fun zombie things.” Jensen giggles. He’s plastered, and it seems like letting Jensen near his hair in Jensen’s current state might be a bad idea.

“Please?” Jensen asks softly.

Jared makes up his mind then. It doesn’t matter that he likes his hair long, or that he literally has no idea if his hair will even grow back—being dead and all. What matters is that Jensen wants Jared to let him cut it, that Jensen _needs_ him. He has a purpose.

He nods. “Yes, Jensen.”

“Awesome! You’re the best zombie ever, Jared,” Jensen exclaims before reaching his arms around Jared.

If Jared had a beating heart, he’s sure it would have exploded by now, because Jensen’s hugging him. _Jensen’s hugging him._ Instead, he feels Jensen’s fast heartbeat, pounding its way through his body. It’s enough for him.

  
[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jensen140_zps8ec79012.jpg.html)   
  


When Jensen returns to a semi-conscious state, his mouth’s parched, and he’s got a headache about the size of Texas. Scratch that. Alaska might be a more accurate representation. He briefly considers asking Jared to kill him, ‘cause hell, death might actually be an improvement to his current hangover.

“Jared,” he moans softly. A sober zombie could be a useful one. Procuring a glass of water and some aspirin without getting up sounds feasible, if only Jared would answer. “C’mon Jared, where are you?” he asks again.

Jensen sits up reluctantly when he doesn’t get an answer. His vision’s still a little blurry, but his eyes detect no movement in the trailer. Not even an out of focus Jared. He stumbles to the kitchen, grabs a bottle of water from beneath the sink and raids the medicine stash. He’s never had a hangover that couldn’t be killed by a few pills, adequate hydration, and extra sleep.

Once he’s lost the initial post-drinking brain fog, images from last night come flooding back into Jensen’s head, ones that Jensen was more than fine with forgetting, in fact. As it turns out, Jensen now knows that Jared _can_ blush. He’d proven that when Jensen had hugged him before passing out.

Jensen really shouldn’t be remembering how good Jared’s dead body had felt against him. That underneath the slight scent of decay, there was a hint of something more substantial. Jensen wonders if Jared smelled of dirt, sweat, and spice back when he was alive. He kind of hopes so.

With Danneel always busy on the front line expeditions, it’d been longer than Jensen cared to remember since he’d put his arms around someone. And last night, he’d really needed the physical contact. He had ached to feel the reassuring touch of someone else who cared enough to touch him back.

The whiskey had definitely helped fulfil that particular desire. So what if that someone was technically dead. Jared was more than a zombie. Not quite a person, but definitely not just an animated corpse either.

Strands of Jared’s hair lie askew on the carpeted floor, and Jensen reaches out to touch them. He hopes he didn’t have any other brilliant ideas while he was drunk. Not that Jared wouldn’t look great with a tongue or eyebrow piercing, but Jensen’s pretty sure that he could have hit nerves might have paralyzed Jared’s face, or spread infection by not sterilizing the needle.

Dammit, he needs to stop worrying. Jared’s fine, and he’s definitely not dying of an infection in a ditch. If zombies can even die of infection. Jensen honestly has no idea what kills a zombie other than a shot to the head. On that relatively morbid note, Jensen’s brain revolts against any higher thinking, so he stumbles back to the couch and falls asleep easily.

Jensen dreams of sitting shoulder to shoulder with a non-zombie version of Jared. This Jared has a full set of dimples, tanned skin, and filled out muscles that stretch the confines of his thin cotton shirt. Jensen leans over and kisses Jared on the cheek. And more wonderful than the blush that bursts out from under Jared’s skin is the pulse that he feels when he places his hand over Jared’s heart. Jared’s alive, and Jensen can’t help but tackle him to the ground and bite at his lips until Jared gives up and grants him access.

Jared pushes him playfully saying “Geez, Jensen. Who’s the zombie now?”But Jensen can’t joke about it, not yet. So he just repeats “You’re alive, Jared, _I can’t believe that you’re alive_ ,” over and over, and in response, Jared runs his hand over Jensen’s back in soothing circles until his words have faded once again into soft kisses.

\--

Jared isn’t back after Jensen wakes up for the second time that morning, Jensen figures it’s a sign. He’s well rested after his nap, and Jensen knows that he might not have another chance to get out of the dead zone and back inside the wall. Scouting the area outside from the trailer window, he notes the positions of the zombies that he can see. They’re all in a constant state of drifting aimlessly. They should be easy enough to avoid if he’s careful.Jensen searches around for a backpack. His never made it outside of the hospital walls. He finds one easily enough, and then proceeds to stuff it full of water and the packets of jerky that Jared had brought him. He grabs the paisley blanket as a mix between a souvenir and an afterthought. Although he’d like to be back home tonight, there’s no guarantee that he’ll make it, and a little warmth can go a long way after the sun sets.

He’s brushing his teeth when Jensen realizes that oddly enough, he’s going to miss Jared. But the zombie’s home is here, among his kind. And Jensen’s dad would shoot Jared on sight, no questions asked. He spits the toothpaste into the sink, and then gargles the remains of his bottled water for almost a minute before he spits that out too. It seems so fucking surreal, that he’s still worried about dental care during the zombie apocalypse, but it could be worse. At least he doesn’t need a root canal.  
His hand’s resting on the metal handle of the screen door when he considers writing a note, telling Jared that he’s gone. Realizing that he has no idea if zombies can read, Jensen chuckles to himself, running a hand over his neck; it’s a typical self-soothing gesture for him. Although Jared’s ability to string sentences together had seemed to improve overnight, the extent of his brain activity is still under question.

So Jensen sends out a mental ‘thank you’ to Jared instead, for saving him at the hospital, for not eating him, and definitely for the booze. Jensen hopes that wherever he is, Jared gets the message.

Making sure to shut the door quietly, Jensen slips from the trailer, and out into the eerily calm carnival.

\--

The first few minutes outside of the trailer are almost too easy. Jensen keeps to the shadows, attempting to trace back the path that Jared had taken when they had come through that first night. Two rights. One left. Jensen makes sure to keep the Ferris wheel west of his current position. Still, he can’t quite remember all of the correct turns, and soon he becomes lost in what seems to be the zombie infested portion of the amusement park.

Jesus. Hadn’t they only walked this way the day before yesterday? It seems like a lifetime ago, now—back when Jensen’s best friends weren’t a bottle of whiskey and a high functioning zombie. Well, whiskey’s been his friend since he developed the balls to steal it from his father’s cellar, but the zombie was a new addition. Especially since he had tried to kill Jared barely forty-eight hours ago. Now he’d fucking run straight into Jared’s arms if he showed up in front of him. He waits for a moment, but Jared doesn’t appear.

“Dammit,” he mutters when a couple of zombies come into his view, their arms limp and posture hunchbacked. None of them are Jared. They’re too close for comfort, passing by merely one row of game-stands over from where Jensen stands stock-still, trying to avoid detection.

Just watching this group of undead humans reminds Jensen of how unlike the rest of his cohort Jared is. Of how straight Jared stands. Of how he tries to walk in a coordinated manner, even if he doesn’t always succeed.

The others’ expressionless faces don’t seem capable of attempting to show emotion. Jensen chokes down a laugh as he thinks about Jared trying to smile. The zombies come to a halt after hearing Jensen’s muffled noise, and adrenaline immediately courses through Jensen’s veins, forcing him to freeze. It’s the third option of the _flight or fight_ response, and if Jensen’s lucky, if he can hold still enough, he won’t have to employ choice one or two. At this point in time, calling attention to himself by running or engaging in a physical altercation would likely decrease his chances of survival.

Jensen inhales slowly and then holds his breath, exhaling with the breeze to mask his position and scent. Eventually, the group continues on their way after a bit of grunting and pointing, and Jensen lets out a sigh of relief. He collapses against the particle board of the booth behind him and barely holds back the wracking sobs that are trying to escape from his chest. Breathing in and out, Jensen calms his body and centers his consciousness to prepare for the journey ahead. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. Just like his momma had always said.

Jensen briefly considers returning to Jared’s home, before deciding that _this is it_. He’s going to make it out of this damn freak show or die trying. Even if the latter is starting to look more and more like a probable outcome.

Getting back up onto shaky legs takes more out of Jensen than he would have thought. He feels like a newborn foal, struggling to figure out how his legs move end whether or not his muscles will be strong enough to support his body weight. But after a few minutes of burning pain in his quadriceps—and Jensen takes a moment to curse his bowed thighs—his brain turns back from shock into a state of hyper-vigilance, and soon enough he’s dodged his fifth group of zombies, leading Jensen to believe that he’s getting closer to an exit.

He makes his way slowly yet carefully through aisles of booths, and around various rides such as _the Zipper._ Jensen can’t imagine paying money to be flipped upside down in a metal cage. Just the thought of people wanting that adrenaline rush, of people paying money to put their bodies in a state of arousal and terror, makes Jensen furious. He didn’t get a fucking choice, this hell is his life, and if his body never produced another drop of that goddamn hormone again he’d be exceedingly happy.  
He’s so busy feeling livid that he doesn’t notice when a zombie shuffles out from around the corner until it’s too late. Jensen can tell by the way its head snaps around that it smells him. It’s faster than its kind normally are, except for in the presence of food. Its dead eyes light up when they meet his own, and it lunges forward, dragging one leg at a sideways angle as it makes its bid to catch him.

“Oh, c’mon,” Jensen mutters underneath his breath. He can’t catch a fucking break today.

Scrapping stealth, because running as fast as possible takes precedence over silence now that he’s been seen, Jensen’s feet pound against the asphalt. His legs carry him until he can see a break in the booths and a large sign proclaiming _Entrance_ in block letters that at one point had lit up in bright neon colors.

For one brief moment he thinks _I made it_ , and relief floods through his body. Then he trips over a stray piece of gravel, and falls forward into the ground.  
“Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” is all Jensen can seem to say. Sure, his fall had knocked the air from his lungs and shredded his jeans. But that’s not what Jensen’s thinking about. Blood is dripping out of the heels of his hands and from the creases in his knees, painting the ground in an off-color of maroon. Red blood cells. White blood cells. Plasma. Components of his blood that bring oxygen, infection control, and nutrients to every cell in Jensen’s body. Part of his life force that is now splattered on the ground underneath him, and it’s going to draw every single zombie in the whole carnival right to him. Jensen’s so fucked.

He gets his knees underneath him, and then stands back up. There’s no way that he can make it to the exit now; zombies have already ambled in front of the gate, sensing that their prey might try to make an escape.

With his back to a flimsy piece of particle board, Jensen edges his head around the corner, just enough to peer down one row. Zombies. He looks the other direction. More zombies. There’s only one way left to go, and it’s into a side alley. He takes off at a run again, gravel catching against the divots in his traction, but this time he’s more careful of the uneven ground under his feet. He’s motivated to stay upright.

It’s too late when Jensen realizes that he’s boxed himself into a dead end. He can’t see the zombies yet, but he can hear them, limbs scraping against the ground as they drag forward, eagerly anticipating ripping the flesh from his still living body. Jensen’s finding it hard to relax and use his prefrontal cortex to think logically through the situation when every fiber in his body is screaming at him to run like hell or prepare to fight.

He’s almost ready to try to scale the flimsy poles that hold all of the game booths together, when he sees a dumpster half hidden behind the last stand. The welcoming royal blue screams safety to Jensen, and he scrambles down the alley, opens the black plastic lid, and jumps inside without a second thought.

The stench of rotten, decomposed food and waste material fully hits Jensen’s nose after he closes the top of the dumpster. He tries to breathe with his mouth, but the smell is strong enough to trigger his gag reflex. Baring his stomach, Jensen brings his tee-shirt up to cover his nose, and even though it’s not perfect, it definitely dulls the rancid odor.

His eyes take a few minutes to adjust to the blackness that’s settled once again over the trash, but after he can make out his surroundings, Jensen notices that layers of maggots are squirming on top of each other. Twisting and turning their white bodies against Jensen’s legs and hands. He quickly pulls his knees up to his chest, making sure that the worms can’t get anywhere near his open skin. He doesn’t need any more reminders that the world is currently out to eat him.

Jensen takes in a shallow breath, thinks of being safe and warm, and back on the couch at Jared’s. He tries to quench his fear of almost certain death by repeating to himself that he’s only here temporarily. He’ll get out. He’s going to make it. After a while with no improvement, he gives up on the positive thoughts in favor of rocking himself back and forth in minute movements. Enough to soothe his body, but not to shake the container that he’s in. It works a little bit better.

He’s busy counting backwards from one-hundred when the top is ripped off the dumpster. Light pours onto Jensen’s body and his forearm flies reflexively in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the bright, late afternoon sun. He lowers his arm from his eyes slowly, as if he can’t see the creature, it won’t be real; his last moments alive won’t be of him hiding in a dumpster while an ash-tinged zombie bites into his face.

The pain doesn’t come though, and when Jensen finally gets the strength to open his eyes, he’s met with Jared’s face. It takes a moment to register that it’s actually Jared, because he’s without his signature mop of hair due to Jensen’s adventure in buzz cutting last night.

Jared looks a little weary, as if Jensen might launch into full-on attack mode until Jensen smiles upon recognition and flings himself into Jared’s arms. Luckily for both of them, Jared is able to coordinate his arms in time to catch him. Jensen locks his legs around Jared’s hips to make sure that he won’t fall down. He takes ragged breaths into Jared’s neck, and Jared keeps holding him, hands supporting Jensen’s thighs, until he’s calmer.

In the end, it’s Jensen who breaks their position, squirming around in Jared’s arms until Jared deposits him on the ground. However, Jensen’s not ready to completely stop touching Jared, so he grasps Jared’s large hand with his own clammy palm. Jared smiles at him, and Jensen’s never been so glad to see that semi-psychotic expression splayed across Jared’s face.

“Not safe out here… Jensen,” Jared says slowly.

“I know. But I can’t go back to your house, Jared. I need to get back to my own home.”

Jared narrows his already slanted eyes, and for the first time since he opened his eyes, Jensen notices the smears of red around Jared’s mouth. He’d clearly been out feeding while Jensen had been sleeping off his hangover. Before, that would have disgusted Jensen. He would have shot Jared without a second thought. Now, he can’t bring himself to care. He needs Jared. Fuck, if he’s being honest with himself, he actively _likes_ Jared.

“Help me get home, Jared?” he pleads. He can’t navigate this maze by himself.

Jared tilts his head as if he’s assessing the situation, and then nods his head.

“Yes, Jensen,” is all he says, before leading Jensen back down the alley towards the exit.

However, before they walk out into any of the larger aisles, Jared stops Jensen with a hand splayed across Jensen’s chest. Jensen wonders if Jared can feel just how hard his heart is beating. If he’s noticed that it picks up an even faster rhythm when Jared touches him.

Either way, Jared gives no indication of awareness towards Jensen’s current tachycardic state.

He shakes his head at Jensen and lets go of his hand. Jensen immediately misses the calming effect that the simple touching of his skin against Jared’s had created. He feels empty and alone. It takes all of his effort to concentrate on the slightly garbled words coming out of Jared’s mouth.

“Not like that,” Jared says, emphasizing his incorrect posture. “Like this.” He drops one shoulder and adopts a gait that is more uneven than the one with which he normally walks. Jensen tries to mimic Jared, who laughs at his attempt to act like a zombie. He practices staggering down the alley until Jared’s no longer raising an eyebrow at his pitiful efforts.

“Better?” he asks, seriously. He really wants to make it out alive.

“Better,” Jared confirms. Jensen’s about to start limping forward when Jared stops him.

“Wait.”

Jensen halts, and Jared wipes his lips of any excess blood, pausing only briefly before smearing it over Jensen’s own mouth. Jensen’s standards for vomiting have clearly decreased in the last couple of days, because he doesn’t feel the compulsion to purge his insides this time around as Jared paints his face. Instead, he savors the way that his own blood pushes up to the surface of his skin, flushing in the wake of Jared’s hands.

Jared grabs Jensen’s wrists in a motion that brings them up, and wipes the mostly congealed blood from the heels of Jensen’s palms across his face. Jensen’s blood looks suspiciously like war paint, accentuating Jared’s high cheekbones. He holds one of Jensen’s hands over his lips for a moment before his tongue darts out. It’s soft, and surprisingly warm against Jensen’s skin.

Jensen can tell that Jared’s being especially careful not to lick anywhere near where his scrapes are still open. To not infect Jensen’s blood with his disease. Instead, he starts salivating over Jensen’s fingertips, dipping the ends one by one into his mouth, carefully covering his sharp teeth with his lips. _This is blind faith_ , Jensen thinks. And right now, there’s no one in the world who Jensen feels deserves his absolute trust more than Jared.

Jensen lets Jared lick his fingers until he notices that Jared’s starting to look a little loopy. Grinning from the rush that’s gotten him high off Jensen’s blood, Jared takes a step forward and backs him into a piece of slightly unstable, rotting plywood. Jensen wants nothing more than to tip his head until his lips meet Jared’s but his conscience can’t quite reconcile the action. Or his obvious death wish, if that were to happen. _Jared’s dead, and that’s not something you can change_ , he tells himself. So this time, it’s Jensen’s hand splayed across Jared’s still chest that stops them.

He tries to be as truthful as possible when he says “I like you Jared, I do, but we can’t do this. Not here. Not now. Maybe not ever."

What he means is, not until he’s had enough of living. If the time comes, there’s no way that he’s not choosing Jared over the once clinical definition of death: no heartbeat, no blood pressure, no respirations for an entire minute. Those qualifications no longer apply in this world.

After a moment of silence, Jared backs out of Jensen’s personal space. “Ok,” he agrees. He’s not looking at Jensen anymore, and Jensen feels guilt starting to bubble inside of him. Well, it’s either that or the remnants of whiskey, aspirin, and gummy worms mixing in his stomach.

“Jared, listen man, God knows why, but I seriously like y--” he doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jared interrupts his declaration of devotion with the one phrase that he’s been waiting to hear since he arrived.

“Are you ready to go home?”

It doesn’t sound nearly as appealing now that the words are out of Jared’s mouth. His tone’s gone flat, and although Jensen wants to fix it, he also wants to get back across the wall, where he’s sure his father and friends are searching for him.

Jensen nods his head, and they start walking down the main pathway, bumping into each other from time to time. It’s nowhere near as pleasant as the feel of Jared pressed up against him, but still, the contact reassures Jensen that Jared is right there, guiding and guarding him. Jared makes Jensen feel safe, and that’s honestly a thought that he’d never considered entertaining about a zombie. Jared smiles down at him as they walk right past a group of zombies, and Jensen brushes his fingers against Jared’s hand. He’s pleased to see Jared blush again.

\--

They make it all the way to the carnival entrance without detection, but once they arrive at their destination there’s a small crowd of zombies standing directly in front of the gate. There seems to be a leader, a blonde zombie with an upturned nose and blue eyes who’s sitting in a golf cart. _Huh,_ Jensen thinks to himself. He’s never seen a zombie commandeer a vehicle before. Didn’t know they were capable of it.

Jared straightens his posture when he sees the zombie in charge. It gets out of the cart and approaches Jared. With each step forward it takes, Jensen backs up in slow, measured steps until he’s standing behind Jared’s broad frame.

He’s suddenly beyond glad that Jared’s taller than him.

It keeps walking towards them despite the fact that Jared’s pulled himself up to his full height. Jared hisses what sounds like a warning. It’s a noise that Jensen hasn’t heard come out of Jared’s mouth before. The slightly smaller zombie points to where he’s hiding behind Jared, and states, “Food,” very clearly. The rest of the zombies perk up, becoming interested in him then, as if they hadn’t noticed until the zombie had spoken that he wasn’t one of them.

Jared clenches his teeth and hisses again.

“No,” he growls. “Not food. Mine.” He grabs onto Jensen’s wrist then, pulling him even more behind his back. Blocking him completely from the blonde zombie’s view.

The other one looks confused. “Food!” it proclaims again, taking a step forward. The others move in closer as well.

“No!” Jared shouts, and takes a step forward this time, forcefully asserting his position. The harshness in his tone makes a few in the crowd twitch and take a step back. The leader still looks unsure. It scrunches its near-white eyebrows together.

It backs up and awkwardly runs a hand through its hair. Jensen imagines that by this point in time, it’s grease, rather than gel that’s making its hair stick up in pointed spikes. The zombie’s simple motion suddenly makes Jensen understand that these two have a relationship. Something that’s making the one in front of them question its innate drive to eat him.

The leader takes a moment to think, and Jensen can literally see the metaphorical wheels turning through its dead eyes. It takes a step closer, and Jared crouches down into a semi-fighting stance, snarling in response to the other’s movement. The horde of zombies twitches agitatedly in anticipation of food, forming a circle around Jared and him.

“No.” he says again. “Not yours. Mine.”

Jensen would usually object to being, well, objectified, but right now he’s completely fine with Jared’s ownership statements. He finds himself nodding in agreement, and squeezing Jared’s hand for moral support. It’s no longer only Jensen’s life on the line here. Jared’s risking his own non-life for Jensen, and Jensen, to be honest, hasn’t ever had to be the one saved before. It’s a new feeling, one that makes him regard Jared with even more admiration and respect.

The blonde zombie cocks its head to the side, as if it’s trying to comprehend what Jared’s saying. Jensen’s only a little surprised when the next word out of its mouth is _“Why?”_

He’s taken aback when Jared steps to the side, leaving Jensen feeling exposed against a group of creatures that want to bite him. _Don’t panic_ , Jensen tells himself, but he can’t seem to help the tremors wracking his body, making it hard for him to keep standing until Jared pulls Jensen back towards him.

Jensen allows Jared to position him, and Jared adeptly moves his pliable body so that they’re face to face, bodies perfectly aligned. One of Jared’s long legs rests innocuously between Jensen’s bowed knees and he’s caught with the sudden desire to press forward, and really _feel_ Jared against him. Fuck what he said before. Now seems like a good time to explore his feelings. He wonders if it really makes that much difference that Jared’s not technically alive. Then Jared takes his hand that’s not currently intertwined with Jensen’s and brings it up to cup his face.

Jared leans down, and presses a kiss against Jensen’s cheek, not risking infection by mouth to mouth contact. Jensen’s surprised to note that even through the blood stains that cover his face, he can no longer detect traces of cyanosis around Jared’s lips. He blinks, readjusting his eyes, and looks again. Even the deep blue around Jared’s sunken eyes has lessened. Jensen’s never heard of a zombie getting better, recovering its humanity, but then again, Jared’s not a regular zombie.

He tries to make eye contact with Jared to tell him that something’s different between them, but he can’t, because Jared’s not looking at him. Hasn’t been since he first pressed his lips against the high bone of Jensen’s cheek. He’s looking directly at the lead zombie, challenging its authority.

He finally pulls back from Jensen’s face, but not before his tongue licks into Jensen’s pores. Jensen stifles a laugh as Jared makes a whimper when he has to pull away. At least if they die right here, they’ll have each other. It seems like a small consolation prize, but knowing that Jared will sacrifice himself for him, that’s worth more than Jensen knows what to do with.

“Mine,” Jared says again. His eyes haven’t left the blonde zombie yet. “Not yours… mine.”

Jensen tenses his body, waiting for the inevitable fight to start. The air around him hangs still as Jared stares down his counterpart. Then the zombie takes one step to the side, allowing them passage out of the carnival and Jensen’s entire body relaxes. He’s going to leave here alive.

Breaking out in a grin, Jensen can’t help but reach up on his tip toes and plant a kiss onto Jared’s pale face. Jared returns his smile with vigor, and for the first time, Jensen thinks that Jared’s expression is beautiful rather than psychotically terrifying.

“Go,” the blonde zombie orders them.

Jared reaches out and touches the guy on the shoulder as they pass by on their way to the golf cart. Jensen swears he hears Jared say, “Thanks,” underneath his breath.

Jensen turns the keys, which are still in the ignition, and starts the engine. It seems to roar to life, but Jensen knows that it only sounds loud because everything around them is dead silent. He looks at Jared, and realizes suddenly what his freedom will cost him.

“You know that I can’t take you home, right? Once we even get near the wall, you’d be ganked faster than I could say the words _good zombie._ ”

Jared nods his understanding but folds his long body into the small seat anyways, making it clear that he’s not leaving. Not yet anyways.

“Okay, well, if we run into any patrol vehicles, you’ve got to take off stat. Got it?”

Jared nods again, but it’s not good enough for Jensen.

“C’mon, Jared. I need you to use your words here.”

“Yes, Jensen, I understand,” Jared states rather dejectedly.

Jensen sympathizes with the sentiment. He doesn’t want to have to ditch Jared on the side of the road like trash either. But he knows for a fact that no one inside the wall, especially his own father, would take kindly to Jensen vouching for a zombie. Even one with as big of a heart as Jared.

He puts the cart into reverse, and then quickly back into first gear. With Jared at his side, Jensen drives the small vehicle down the paved road and away from the carnival. The city lies ahead of them; tall, empty buildings that rise out of the earth. Jensen’s never been so glad to see the broken remnants of human civilization.

  
[](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jared140_zpsaa23a77a.jpg.html)

As they drive away from Jared’s home, the warm summer air brushes against his shaved head. It tickles his scalp in a way that feels new. Different. Jared can’t quite place the emotion but it’s invigorating. Jared almost feels alive.They drive in silence for almost an hour. Jared was surprised when they hadn’t headed directly for the city. After all, he had found Jensen in the wreckage of one of the large empty brick buildings downtown. He’s not quite sure where this supposed wall that Jensen’s talked about is, but he had imagined it to be nearby the city. Jensen is, however, currently driving them through the back roads of the country side, keeping his distance from the towering sky-scrapers.

The golf-cart dies about thirty minutes later, while they’re travelling down a gravel road. The ride’s been unpleasant since they left the pavement behind. Each bump and pothole jolts Jared’s body in a way that he’s not used to. He’s tempted to say that it hurts, although he’s not quite sure if he remembers what pain feels like. Regardless, he’s not overly disappointed when Jensen announces that they’ll have to walk the rest of the way.

Once he stretches out his legs, which have become cramped in the small space that he’d forced them into, he follows Jensen down the road, in the direction of the setting sun. He’s a bit worried about being out after dark. Not for him, because his species is currently at the top of the food chain right now, but for Jensen. If they come across a horde of zombies, there’s no way that Jared will be able to protect Jensen. He’d still fight of course, but he doesn’t have the same sway out here that he does on his home turf.

“Are we close to the wall?” he asks Jensen. They’re the first words that he’s spoken since they left his home, and it seems to startle Jensen, who chuckles softly.

“Not really, but without the cart, we won’t be able to get there tonight.”

“It’ll be dark soon,” he states, hoping that Jensen understands what he’s not saying.

Jensen looks at him with an expression that he can’t quite distinguish. “Don’t worry, Jared. I didn’t come this far only to get eaten.”

Jensen’s arm raises, and he points to a farm house in the distance. “You see that?”

Jared nods.

“That’s where I grew up. My family raised wheat and cattle before the zombie apocalypse came and took us by surprise. Fortunately, we had guns to protect our herd from coyotes. Most people weren’t so lucky. We managed to fight our way into the safe zone that the government had set up, and that’s where we’ve lived ever since.”

Jensen pauses. “I was fourteen when it happened. When the world collapsed.”

Jared doesn’t remember how old he was when he got bitten. Twenty-one? Twenty-three? He doesn’t look like he’s aged at all, he just looks like a slightly deader version of his original self. He wonders if that makes him younger or older than Jensen. It kind of seems like a catch-22.

Jared doesn’t say any of that though, he doesn’t want to intrude on Jensen’s moment of mourning and grief. Instead, he takes Jensen’s hand, once again, and squeezes as hard as his fairly weak muscles will allow. He smiles when Jensen squeezes back. His hand tingles as a sharp, unpleasant sensation runs up his arm, and Jared can’t think of anything besides the fact that _he’s feeling_.

\--

By the time they make it to Jensen’s childhood home, the sun has sunk down beneath the horizon, and only the dusky blue of twilight remains.

“Here we are, Jared. Home sweet home.”

Jared doesn’t remember what his own human house had looked like, but he’s intrigued with Jensen’s. Pictures of Jensen, with whom Jared assumes to be his family, line the walls. Appliances and furniture clutter the house, just like they had back in Jared’s trailer. Here, however, the air smells stale, and a thick layer of dust covers everything. He can tell that even after all of these years, Jensen hasn’t been back before now.

He follows Jensen down the hall, and into Jensen’s bedroom. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, not really knowing what to do. If Jensen even wants him here, or if he’d prefer that Jared spend the night on the couch. Out of his sight. If he wants to pretend for one night that zombies don’t exist. Jared wouldn’t mind, not really. It’s not like he sleeps. He would, however, miss listening to Jensen’s breathing even out. Watching a leg or an arm twitch occasionally as he dreams. Jared would miss that.

Jensen runs his hand over the rumpled, unmade bed before turning to Jared. “You mind sleeping on the floor?”

Jared shakes his head.

“Great. Thankfully, we’ve always had well water, so I’m gonna go clean up. It’s been a long few days. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. There are extra blankets in the closet if you need them.”

Jared nods and waits for Jensen to grab a towel and a pair of clean boxers. Once Jensen’s gone, Jared can’t help but go through Jensen’s room. He blows the dust off each object that he picks up from Jensen’s desk, dresser, and shelves. There is an assortment of soccer trophies, 4-H cattle raising certificates, and framed pictures on Jensen’s desk. He bends down to look at the pictures. By the time he gets to the third one he realizes that they’re all of Jensen and Danneel. Of them sleeping together as babies. Playing as toddlers. Dressed up like superheroes as children. Hugging, and in formal clothes as young teenagers. Jared imagines that that one in particular must have been taken right before the world fell apart.

He gently turns each one over carefully, so that they don’t show the happy memories of Danneel and Jensen. As he stares at the white, empty backsides of the photo paper he knows that it’s time. He’s got to tell Jensen that it was him—that he was the one who killed Danneel when they first met.

Jared can’t help but feel sad, sorry for her and for Jensen. That they didn’t get the life that they had wanted. They won’t ever get married, or have kids, or live happily ever after. Maybe they would have grown old together if the zombie invasion hadn’t happened. Perhaps not. Either way, Jared can’t bring himself to regret his action. Because then he wouldn’t have met Jensen. And Jensen seems to be changing his whole world on a daily basis just by existing.

\--

Jared’s sitting on the ground, his back facing Jensen’s bed and thumbing through an old yearbook, when Jensen comes back in with water still dripping off his hair. Jensen shakes his head, and a few straight drops rain on Jared, making him hiss in surprise.

“Hey there big guy, take it easy,” Jensen says to him slowly. “Didn’t realize that water bothered you so much. I’ll be more careful next time, ok?”

Water didn’t used to bother him. He’d walked through a rainstorm the night he’d met Jensen. Jared tries to think about the differences, what had changed since now and then. Cold, he decides. This time, it had felt unusually, unpleasantly cold.

“Jared?” Jensen asks quietly, clearly distressed that he’s not responding. Keeping his distance, Jensen crouches down, until his eyes meet Jared’s. “Are you ok?”

“Just surprised,” Jared answers, because it’s the only answer he can come up with; it’s also the truth.

“Well, no more surprises for the night then, deal?” Jensen says as he pulls a tee-shirt over his head. Jared’s disappointed that Jensen’s covering up his gorgeous, freckle-splattered skin, but he can’t help but enjoy that the shirt he’s putting on is way too tight. It must have been from back when Jensen lived here as an adolescent. Jared solidly approves of the way Jensen’s arms and pecs stretch the confines of the white cotton.

“Mmm…” Jared says after he realizes that Jensen wants an answer. He’s a little too entranced with the way that Jensen’s veins pop out of his arm when Jensen pushes down against the floor to get up. Jared’s got to eat again soon, if he wants to stay safe around Jensen. Thinking about it, he still has one last piece of brain left...

“Great. I’m gonna hit the hay, then. If you get bored, you’re welcome to go downstairs.”

Jared has no idea what Jensen means by hitting the hay. He wonders if it’s an oblique reference to the cows that Jensen had raised. Jared’s equally perplexed when Jensen climbs into his bed and pulls the covers over his body. Isn’t Jensen supposed to say ‘goodnight’ if he’s going to bed?

Jared shifts around nervously on the floor; he can’t let Jensen fall asleep. Not without telling him the truth first. The diamond on Danneel’s ring digs into his fingers as he idly rolls it around in his pocket while he ponders what to do. Jared waits for a minute, no two, before he gets up the courage to speak. Usually Jensen initiates their conversations. Jared doesn’t even know where to start.

“Jensen…” he says softly.

Jensen’s not asleep yet, because he answers with a tired, but awake, “Yes, Jared?”

“It was me.”

Jared’s met with silence. He desperately needs Jensen to know that it was him, that he has something to atone for. When Jensen doesn’t respond Jared tries again.

“I did it, Jensen. Back at the hospital. I killed Dann—” he doesn’t get all the way through saying Danneel’s name before Jensen interrupts him with a phrase that he didn’t expect.

“I know, Jared.”

His mouth gapes open, not that Jensen could see. They’re faced back to back, and even if they weren’t, Jensen’s got poor sight in the darkness.

“How did you kn—” Jared’s interrupted again before he gets to the end of his sentence.

“Simple math. There weren’t that many of you, and almost all the other zombies were otherwise engaged at the time.”

It seems like that’s all of an answer that he’s going to get, until Jensen continues, this time a little more weary, “and the fact that she couldn’t have been killed by some mindless zombie. She was too experienced and smart for that. And you? You’re not the average zombie, are you Jared?”

Jared doesn’t answer that question, but he does tell Jensen, “I’ve got her memories, you know.”

By the quick intake of breath, Jensen did not know that particular piece of information.

“All of them?”

“No. Just a few. Her best, strongest ones, I think.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything, so Jared states, “I’m sorry, Jensen. I really am.”

“Go to bed, Jared,” Jensen orders. He can tell by the harsh edge of Jensen’s voice that their conversation is over.

Jared takes the small piece of jewelry out of his pocket, and sets it down on Jensen’s desk. It makes a clicking sound as the metal comes in contact with the hard wood. When he hears Jensen’s breath hitch in the darkness, he knows that Jensen understands.

He sits back down, keeping a silent vigil over Jensen. Waiting until after Jensen’s breathing has evened out takes hours tonight, and Jared’s starting to get restless with hunger by the time he feels safe enough to eat. Jensen might not kick him out for having killed Danneel, but he’s pretty sure that Jensen would feel differently about Jared eating her brain inside of his house.

It’s hard to refrain from groaning as the first taste of brain blossoms on his tongue. Ecstasy. Nirvana. Pure unadulterated enlightenment. All combined with a slightly flowery aftertaste. Jared’s so entranced with the simple taste, the way it cures his hunger like no other part of a human body, that he’s almost surprised when after his first swallow, his consciousness is transported to yet another one of Danneel’s memories.

_This time around it’s much later. They’re older, and running by themselves through the deserted city. Jared can feel his heart pounding in his chest as he struggles to keep up with Jensen’s fast pace._

They run down the street. Into, and through buildings. Up and down seemingly endless flights of stairs. Jared’s legs start to hurt, burning with oxygen deprivation.

Jensen speeds up as they cross through a large soccer stadium on the north side of the city. Jared has a fleeting thought about how Jensen could have played here if the end of civilization hadn’t happened in their life time.

Jensen sprints ahead of him, and Jared can see it now in a clear vision. Jensen in a soccer jersey, shorts that accent his bulging quadriceps, and high socks with shin guards. He runs down the field, dribbling the ball past his opponents to the cheers of thousands of fans. Kicking the ball through the net as the commentator screams, “Goooaaalll,” and Jensen’s teammates jump on top of him with joy. The thought makes Jared’s heart swell.

Jared wonders if this vision is his, or Danneel’s. The more he delves into her memories, the more he’s unable to separate his thoughts from hers.

They stop at a graffiti covered hallway on the third floor of the stadium. Jensen leans his back against the wall and starts laughing. It’s deep and rumbling, and it sparks Jared’s nerves, lighting him up on the inside like a Christmas tree.

“That was officially awesome. We are awesome.”

Jared laughs too, after taking a few deep breaths. Breathing is good. Jared likes breathing.

“Yeah we are,” Jared says. He moves his own body right into the space between Jensen’s legs and rubs their bodies together. With all the excitement, he’s not really surprised to find that Jensen’s already hard.

“Have I mentioned that you’re the best boyfriend ever?” Jared asks, already knowing where this situation is going. Once they get back inside they’ll be put back to work immediately. There are always cows to be milked, chickens to be slaughtered, and people to help down at the clinic. They never take time for themselves anymore.

“You know,” Jensen says teasingly, “I don’t think you have. But I’m open to suggestions for you showing me.”

Jared runs his hands up Jensen’s flat chest, stopping for a moment to circle his nipples before he reaches his long arms around Jensen’s neck and pulls him in for a kiss. They both make whimpering sounds as their tongues meet, and Jared knows that it’s been way too long since they’ve been able to focus their energy on enjoying each other.

Jensen kisses him like Jared’s the best thing he’s tasted in years, and Jared meets each push of his tongue with all the enthusiasm he can muster. Which is a surprising amount, considering they’ve just sprinted over eight miles across uneven terrain. Jared rubs his crotch against Jensen, enjoying the feel of their cocks sliding together, even through four layers of cotton. He allows gravity to drag his hand down Jensen’s sweat soaked shirt, and into the waistband of his jeans.

Jared disentangles his tongue from Jensen’s mouth and Jensen tilts his head back against the cement, angling his pelvis in an outward direction as Jared undoes the first button, and then the zipper of his pants.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, babe,” he says.

Jared pinches Jensen’s nipple for even suggesting that he doesn’t want to suck his dick. After all these years, Jensen’s still surprised that he loves to take him into his mouth.

“I know that. But I want to. I really, really _want to.”_

Those are the last words he says, before his knees touch the ground, and he licks the first stripe up Jensen’s hard, flushed dick. Sometimes, with Jensen, it’s better to show him how much he wants this.

Jared licks, and sucks, and swallows, and fucking drools everywhere because he knows that when Jensen’s drunk a little too much whiskey he’ll admit to loving it when it’s messy. Like having spit dripping down his balls and shining the inside of thighs might even be better than the blow job itself.

It’s not long before Jared frees his own cock from his pants and jacks himself; a mixture of his drool and Jensen’s pre-come dripping down off his chin to ease the slide against his rough hand. It’s still almost too painful, but Jared can hardly focus on himself as Jensen’s thighs start to tremble; the first harbinger that Jensen’s reaching the breaking point.

When Jensen brings the hand that’s not caught in Jared’s hair forward and touches his cheek, tracing his fingers against the head of his cock, Jared knows that Jensen’s telling him without words that he loves him. No questions asked. No matter how often Jared chooses dangerous missions over sleeping safely curled into his side.

Jared looks up then, his mouth still full of Jensen’s dick. His eyes meet Jensen’s own, which are practically black from arousal. Not saying a word, they hold eye contact until, hips faltering, Jensen comes into Jared’s mouth. Jared follows Jensen across the finish line barely ten strokes later, thinking enough to aim his dick so that he shoots his load on the wall behind him. The less cleanup the better.

Jared stands up and tucks both of them back into their respective pairs of pants.

When Jensen reaches down to palm Jared’s crotch, he finds it soft and slightly wet.

“You get yourself off while you were sucking me down?” he asks lazily, as he draws mindless patterns across Jared’s back.

“Yeah. Couldn’t wait ‘till you were finished.”

Jensen places a kiss on the top of Jared’s nose. “I’m pretty sure that makes you, officially, the hottest thing ever."

“But you come in as a close number two,” Jared teases, and he snuggles deep into Jensen’s body.

Jensen smells of sweat, and sex, and Jared can’t think of a better scent. Roses don’t hold a candle to Jensen’s post-coital essence.

Oddly enough, it’s Jensen who breaks the silence with a gentle kiss to his forehead. “We gotta get back before someone realizes that we’re gone.”

“Mmm…” Jared says into Jensen’s shirt, loathe to move.

“Sweetie, if we want to make this a regular date, we’ve got to get back to base camp,” Jensen states while grabbing his ass, making it clear that if he thought they could get away with it, they’d definitely be staying long enough for a round two performance.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says as he disentangles his limbs from Jensen’s.

Five panels over, there’s a secret door. It’s marked with the graffiti above it which Jensen had picked.Let us go then, you and I _, it says in bright blue spray paint, paying homage to T.S. Eliot. Without looking back, they walk straight through, making sure to close the door behind them._

\--

Bright light hits Jared’s eyes the minute he steps through the makeshift portal. He squints, letting his eyes adjust to the new stimulation. Upon closer examination, Jared realizes that he’s standing in a grass field. Jensen and Danneel are sitting on the ground with a blanket underneath them, eating food from a basket. She laughs at something that Jensen says, a sound so airy that it practically tinkles.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Danneel says to him, when she recognizes his presence.

Jensen looks back and forth between them, a confused look plastered across his face. Jared’s pretty sure that he’s sporting the same expression. If this isn’t a memory, then what is it?

Danneel gets up off the blanket, and walks over to him. Jared tries to look away, averting his eyes to look anywhere but at hers.

He feels the touch of her warm hand on his face before he sees it. Her hand is small, but firm against the line of his jaw, forcing his eyes down to meet her own. Jared notices for the first time that her irises are a warm brown. They’re beautiful.

“Hey,” she says softly. “You’re not supposed to be here, but I’m so glad that you came. I’ve been wanting to meet you. Jensen’s told me all about you.”

“I’m so sorry,” is all that Jared can choke out. It seems inadequate, now that he’s here, faced with one of the girls that he murdered. He doesn’t want to think about all of the others. He wants to not be culpable.

She rubs her thumb across Jared’s cheek in a soothing manner. “Shhh, sweetie. It’s okay. We all need to eat, and at least you made it quick.”

“I’m doing the best I can to protect him,” he says, hoping that she’ll understand that he’s trying to be better. To not kill. To save Jensen’s humanity.

“We’re all doing the best we can given our circumstances. You included. Don’t ever forget that.”

Jared shakes his head. He can see why Jensen was going to marry this girl. The mere fact that she has compassion for him, even though he killed her, that even now she’s trying to patch him up at the seems—Jared feels tears well up in his eyes.

“You’re too cute,” she says when she sees the water in his eyes, “I can see why he likes you.”

“Jensen,” she calls over to where Jensen is still sitting on the blanket, looking back and forth between Danneel and him. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Somewhat nervously, Jensen walks over, as if he’s not sure who to stand next to. “Uhm,” he starts out awkwardly, “Danni, this is Jared. Jared meet Danni.”

Jared reaches out, asking without words for Jensen’s hand. Jensen slips his hand inside of Jared’s, and they both look at Danni, seeking her approval. She smiles.

“You two together are pretty much the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” she says. After her nod of approval, Jared leans down and kisses Jensen on the lips for the first time. They’re soft and taste slightly like strawberries. It must have been what Jensen was eating earlier. Jared really wants to lick open Jensen’s lips.

Just as his tongue peaks out from his lips in order to coax Jensen into opening up for him, Danni breaks their moment with, “Alright boys, I’m afraid that’s all the time we’ve got right now. Don’t worry, you’ll get time to explore each other later.”

They both have guilty looks on their faces. Jared had forgotten that she was even there, and judging by Jensen’s face, he had too.

Danni walks over to Jared, reaches up on her tiptoes and plants a brief kiss on to his cheek. “It was lovely to meet you, Jared, but you’ve got to go now.”

She leans in closer, whispering into his ear, “Take good care of him for me, sweetie.”

Jared nods as the world around him starts to fade.

“I will, Danni. I promise.”


	3. Fic: Warming up to 98.6°F (Part 3)

  


[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jensen140_zps8ec79012.jpg.html)

Jensen awakens with a start. The moonlight pours through his window, splashing pale light across his bed and down onto the floor. He’d been having the weirdest dream. Everything had been normal—he’s had the picnic dream almost every night since Danni died—until Jared had showed up looking like a lost puppy. Jensen laughs softly to himself as he remembers how taken with Jared that Danni had been in his dream. Of course she’d liked him. Liked the idea of them together. Jared is nearly impossible to dislike. He’s just so damn cute. Worms his way through all the holes that Jensen didn’t even know he had.

Jensen gets up softly from his bed, and straightens out the covers. He grabs his jacket, throws on a pair of old soccer shorts—because they’ll be easier to run in than jeans--and laces up his shoes. Double knots them for extra-insurance.

He’s about to open the door to his room and head downstairs where he’s sure that Jared’s waiting for him when he hears the soft sound of snoring. Snoring, as in Jared’s breathing. And sleeping. Jensen was under the impression that zombies did neither of those things.

Jensen can hear the voice of his high school biology teacher saying, _All regular functions of the autonomic nervous system such as breathing, heartbeat, pulse, consciousness, and sleep cycles disappear once the virus has infected the human host_. Jensen had never questioned the science. Zombies eat people. People shoot zombies in the head. The end. But now that he’s met Jared, that he’s spent days with Jared, who fucking sleeps, and snores, and _kisses_ him, he wonders where exactly the line between a human and a zombie lies.

Jared looks peaceful in his current state, his long legs spread out over the wooden floor, head snuggled into the cradle of his hoodie covered arms. Upon closer examination, Jensen can see the slightest bit of drool edging out of Jared’s mouth. He refrains from licking it up. He hasn’t made it all this way only to become a zombie, or whatever the fuck Jared is, just because he might be developing a _thing_ for Jared’s bodily fluids.

He almost reaches down and shakes Jared awake, but at the last minute he pulls his hand away. Maybe it’s better, he thinks, if Jared stays here. He’s less than ten miles from the wall now, and barring any unforeseen complications, he should be back inside the wall in under three hours if he walks. Under two if he runs. Having Jared is an unnecessary burden that will only slow him down. Despite his recent advances in motor coordination, Jared still isn’t what Jensen considers fast. Aside from that, he doesn’t want to put Jared in any more danger—if a patrol car found him or if Jared refused to ditch Jensen before they arrived at the wall, the military trained guards would shoot him on sight. Jensen won’t let that happen.

Jensen decides, albeit reluctantly, that there’s no way in which bringing Jared with him ends well. He walks quietly down the hall, making sure to avoid all of the spots that creak with excess pressure, and grabs a few bars of stale chocolate along with a package of nuts that have been sealed for the past decade, before he sets off into the break of day, leaving behind a blissfully unaware Jared in his wake.

 

\--

 

By the time he arrives in front of the wall, he’s accumulated a fresh layer of dirt covering his body. He’d run hard and fast, but despite being in shape, he’s still out of breath by the time he comes into view of the guards stationed at the gate.

“Down on your knees,” he hears the first one yell, his gun pointing directly at Jensen’s head.

Jensen’s legs buckle beneath him, and he winces as his kneecaps hit the ground with impact. His already quivering thighs won’t be able to sustain this new position for long.

“Jensen Ackles, Code Alpha-Tango-Whiskey-One, reporting in, sir,” he says.

He leans forward in order to take pressure off of his thighs, but the minute he moves he’s yelled at again. “Stay where you are sir, hands behind your back.”

Jensen sighs reluctantly, but complies. Getting shot is not on his agenda today.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d please alert my father to the fact that I’m alive,” he states while they cuff his hands.

Guard number one presses his fingers against Jensen’s throat while guard number two inspects his body for possible bites. Standard procedure for any zombie suspect.

“Pulse is 130.”

“No sign of any zombie bites. Minor scrapes and contusions that look like the results of a fall.”

They give their report over the radio. “We’ve got one Jensen Ackles code Alpha-Tango-Whiskey-One outside of the wall. He has a pulse rate, respirations, and no signs of infection.”

The radio buzzes, and Jensen hears his dad’s voice for the first time in days. “Bring him in.”

 

\--

 

The bustle of the city is unsettling to Jensen after he’s been outside the wall, living in near silence for days. He’s twitchy. Every time someone walks a little too close, bumping his shoulders or arms, Jensen startles.

He meets his dad with a bone-crushing hug that lasts long enough for his father to order him to shower and eat, and then Jensen spends the rest of the day in security briefings.

 _Yes_ , he’s the only survivor. _No_ , he didn’t get the medical supplies. _Yes_ , there are still hordes of zombies on the outside. Some questions Jensen struggles to answer. He doesn’t want to tell them about Jared, the zombie who saved him. Jensen doesn’t want to end up in the psychiatry inpatient unit of the hospital. He doesn’t want them to go looking for Jared. Instead, he tells them that he jumped out of the window, and ran back to his family home where he’d been holed up for a few days. He brings out the bars of chocolate to authenticate his story. It works.

By the time he gets home, it’s night again and Jensen’s exhausted. Instead of resting however, he finds himself in the company of his best friend, Chris.

“Jensen!” Chris shouts when he sets eyes on him, and then dives in for an odd mixture of a tackle and a hug.

“Man, I thought you were dead. Hell, we all thought you were dead.”

Jensen squeezes his best friend back, then smiles grimly. “Surprise.”

Chris becomes somber then, as if understanding for the first time that Jensen’s not exactly thrilled at being home.

“I’m sorry about Danni,” he says quietly, trying to feel out Jensen’s mood, and if he wants to talk.

“Yeah. Me too. I miss her like crazy.”

It’s the truth. Not the whole one, granted, but a section of it.

“Gen’s been crying non-stop since you guys didn’t come back, you know,” Chris tells him.

“Hmm,” Jensen responds. Gen was Danni’s best friend, and he knows that he’ll have to deal with her eventually. Not tonight though. He doesn’t have anything left inside of him to give.

They walk out to the balcony and sit on edge, legs dangling off of the cement. Jensen peers up into the night sky, and wonders where Jared is. If he made it back to his home in the old trailer, or if he’s scouring the city looking for him. He wonders if Jared’s as depressed as he is that they’re no longer sharing the same air.

“Chris?” he asks.

“Yeah, Jensen?”

“If I told you something, could you keep it to yourself?”

"You know me, man. I’m as quiet as a rock."

“I lied in our briefings. I didn’t jump out of a window, and I didn’t go directly home. I got saved by a zombie. And not just once; I kept getting saved. This zombie, he protected me the entire time that I was out in the dead zone.”

Chris coughs, and Jensen can tell that his best friend is at a loss for words. They sit in silence for a few minutes, while Chris processes Jensen’s information, and then he asks, “Did he have a name?” like it’s the most normal question in the world.

Jensen smiles. “Yes, his name was Jared.”

They talk into the night then, mostly about Jared. By the time that Jensen’s talked out, it’s almost one-o-clock in the morning, and he’s ready to pass out.

“I miss him,” is how Jensen tries to end their conversation, as Chris stands up to leave.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear Jensen. You obviously like him, but you do know that there’s no future with a zombie—no matter how much you want one? He kisses you, you become a zombie, and then I’m stuck with fucking having to shoot my best friend in the head.”

Chris is only telling him what he already knows. “Yeah, I got it, no kissing. I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”

Chris hugs him, mostly for reassurance that he’s actually alive. After a moment, Jensen hears the door click downstairs, and then watches as Chris walks down the gravel path back to his own house.

He stares at the night sky for a moment longer, before he turns around, about to head inside when he hears his name floating from down below.

“Jensen?”

It’s Jared’s voice. Jensen whips around, searching for Jared’s tall frame. He finds Jared standing underneath his balcony, red hoodie pulled up so that no one could recognize the ashen tone of his face. He can almost pass for human now that the bright blue around his eyes and lips have faded to gray. Almost.

“Jared,” he says in hushed tones. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Jared shrugs. “Can I come up?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.”

He runs down the stairs to let Jared in the front door. Once they’re back, safely locked into his room Jensen asks, “How did you get here?”

“I walked,” Jared replies. “I missed you. And Chad told me that I should come find you.”

“Who’s Chad?” he asks. He’s never heard Jared bring up another zombie’s name before.

“The one who let us use his golf cart,” Jared responds.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I got back to the carnival around midday. Everything’s changing there, Jensen. We’re changing. We’re starting to remember things about ourselves, even. So when I came back alone and said I missed you, Chad found another working cart and drove me as far as he could.”

“To the gate?” he asks.

“No. To the stadium. I walked through the entrance under the blue words.”

“How did you… ah, Danni’s memories, right?” he questions.

Jared nods.

“So what do you plan to do now that you’re here?”

Jared looks confused. “Sleep?” he asks Jensen.

“Actually, yeah. Sleep sounds good. We can work everything else out in the morning. Dad’ll need to know that something’s up with the zombies.”

“Can I sleep with you?” Jared asks.

Jared looks down at him with big hazel eyes, his face almost back to full color, and Jensen can’t refuse. He wants Jared to sleep with him, too.

“Fine,” he says, “but sleeping only.”

Jared breaks out in a grin then. “Scouts honor,” he declares.

“Uh huh,” Jensen responds, before stripping down into his undershirt and briefs and sliding into his bed. Jared follows his motions soundlessly, but after he slips underneath the covers he reaches his arm over Jensen’s chest, and pulls him back, until Jensen’s ass is snug against his crotch. He leaves his arm pressed against Jensen’s navel.

“This okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “It’s perfect.”

 

\--

 

Sunshine breaking through the opening in his curtains wakes Jensen up earlier than he’d like. Jared’s still holding onto him tightly, and when Jensen moves he feels the stirring of Jared’s morning wood against his ass. Jensen wriggles his butt again, just to make sure.

“I had no idea that zombies could get hard,” he says yawning. “I mean, you can’t make zombie babies with your dick, right?”

Jared’s shoulders shrug against his own. “Dunno, I don’t remember getting morning wood before yesterday.”

Jared’s tepid tongue swipes across Jensen’s neck as he simultaneously starts pushing his hips into Jensen’s.

“D’you mind?” he asks, his voice edging towards Jensen’s normal register of speaking. “You feel really good.”

All the attention that Jared’s been giving his body has made Jensen’s dick perk up, and he realizes that it’s been days since he’s gotten off. His balls ache in a physical, he needs to empty them, sort of way. Feeling Jared rubbing up behind him is infinitely more pleasurable than jerking off by himself, Jensen decides.

“Keep going,” he says, pushing back into every thrust that Jared makes.

Jensen reaches down into his briefs to pull out his dick, getting ready to jack it hard and fast, when Jared’s fingers clasp his wrist, halting his movement.

“Wait. Can I?” he asks, almost shyly.

“Yeah,” Jensen says. “Fuck yeah, Jared.”

Jared’s hand slowly makes its way to Jensen’s dick, which jumps towards him, hoping to attract his attention. Jared chuckles into his back.

“Excited much?”

“Going to be fucking grumpy if you don’t touch me soon.”

With that, Jared encompasses Jensen’s cock with his hand, and Jensen immediately pushes up. It’s a little dry, despite the fact that his dick has been oozing pre-come since Jared pressed the first kiss into his back, but Jared seems to notice that as well. He brings his hand up to Jensen’s mouth and says, “Spit.”

Jensen obeys without a second thought, and Jared’s hand feels much better, now that he’s got a little lubrication. He’s never had a hand on his cock that was this big, and once more pre-come starts dripping out of his urethra Jensen feels like he’s actually fucking someone, rather than just Jared’s hand.

“Slit,” he says through ragged gasps. “Play with my slit.”

The minute that Jared complies, brushes his thumb against all of his sensitive nerves that lie just on the inside of his dick, Jensen comes into Jared’s hand. He thrusts erratically through his aftershocks, waiting until his penis starts to legitimately send pain signals to his brain before he stops humping Jared’s hand.

Once he’s done, completely blissed out in a post-orgasm state, Jared licks all of Jensen’s come off his hand before man-handling him until he’s lying on his stomach, with Jared on top of him. Jared can dry hump him better in this position, and Jensen relaxes to the pleasant feel of Jared’s body covering his own. After a few thrusts of which Jensen is sure would have been brutal had Jared actually been inside of his body, Jared comes into his boxers. He lies over Jensen, and Jensen can feel Jared’s come seeping through his own cotton underwear. Cooler than his. Slightly beneath the temperature necessary to sustain life. He wishes it could have been inside of him, but he’s not sure if the zombie virus is contained in semen as well. Unfortunately, it seems likely.

“Alright,” he says, after his ribcage starts to feel like collapsing. “Time to get up, we’ve got a big day today.”

He wrangles Jared out of bed by grabbing a towel and asking him, “I’m going to take a shower, care to join?”

Jared slides out of bed with the grace of a slightly intoxicated human. It’s progress.

 

\--

 

Jared looks dubiously at the piece of steak that Jensen’s cooked for him. Blood seeps out of the piece of cow muscle and onto the white plate.

“Just try it.”

When Jared raises his eyebrows and shakes his head _no_ , Jensen tries another tactic. He dips his finger into the thin, bright red fluid. “It’s bloody,” he says, lifting his finger up to Jared’s mouth. Jared takes his whole finger in and groans with what Jensen can only assume is delight.

“Good, right?”

“It’s edible. Not as good as you. Especially earlier.” Jared has the nerve to waggle his eyebrows suggestively.

Jensen can’t stop the coffee in his mouth from spilling over the table.

“Actually, do you have anything… sweet?” he asks, after Jensen’s done cleaning up his own mess. He gives Jensen his best puppy-dog eyes. “I have this feeling that I really enjoy sugary foods.”

“Well, I don’t have gummy worms… but it looks like we’ve got some fresh baked cookies.”

Jared consumes the entire plate of cooked dough and chocolate while Jensen chokes down the barely seared meat he’d made for Jared. Once he’s finished, he tells Jared, “Well, I think if you’ve had enough, it’s time that we go debrief my dad on the situation. I mean, you’re talking, you’re eating, you’re sleeping, and you’ve pretty much got everything besides a heartbeat.”

Jared nods. “Okay.”

 

\--

 

“Dad—” Jensen tries to interject for the fifth time in their short conversation. He’s positioned Jared behind him, and for the first time, he wishes that his body could cover Jared’s. Protect him from humanity’s propensity towards ignorance and bigotry.

“No, Jensen. I don’t care that he hasn’t tried to attack anyone since he’s been here. He’s a zombie, and it’s my duty to protect everyone in this city.”

Jensen’s dad turns to Jared. “Have you killed people before, son?” he asks.

Jared nods.

“But he saved _me,_ Dad. Shouldn’t that count for something?”

“Of course it does. He’s still here, isn’t he?”

“Look at him, though. He’s hardly even gray anymore.” Jensen pinches Jared’s cheek, digging his nails into Jared’s flesh.

“Ow!” Jared yells, slapping his hand away. A redness welts up immediately where Jensen’s fingers had been.

“See, he feels, he talks, he sleeps,” Jensen says, gaining momentum, “he even ate for the first time this morning!”

“When was the last time you had human flesh?” his dad asks Jared, pointedly ignoring him in favor of posing a question that Jensen feels has no direct correlation to their conversation.

“Yesterday,” Jared states, looking down at his feet.

Jensen tries not to show surprise, but the he knows that the expression fleets across his face faster than he can control it. He’s sure that his dad sees his reaction. Damnit.

“Thanks for being honest, Jared. Now you say there’s more of you like this—getting better?”

“Yes sir. Most of them are waiting outside of the stadium by now.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?” Jensen’s dad asks, eyes narrowing.

Jared shrugs. “We don’t know. Whatever’s going to happen to us, I guess.”

If Jensen’s dad has anything to do with it, they’ll probably be in for a massacre.

“Why don’t we see what happens with Jared first?” Jensen suggests to his dad. “He can stay in the hospital until our doctors’ figure out what’s going on in his body.”

When his dad doesn’t respond, he continues on with, “What if whatever’s happening to Jared could help cure the zombie infection, Dad?”

“Fine. A locked room, guards 24/7, and you’re not to see him again,” Jensen’s dad says.

“But—” Jared starts to object. Jensen cuts him off before he can get any further.

“Deal,” he agrees before his dad can think about rescinding the offer.

“C’mon, Jared.” He leads Jared towards the infirmary. It’s not until too late when he recognizes the click echoing through the hallway as the safety of a gun being turned off.

Jensen knows the sound of a .44 magnum by heart. He’d shot one since he was strong enough to handle the recoil. He should have known his father wouldn’t have given in so easily; he should have protected Jared better.

It’s loud enough, even from this distance to make both of them temporarily deaf, and there’s no way that Jared can hear Jensen screaming his name. He watches, unable to move fast enough to push Jared out of harm’s way. Jared’s body convulses with the impact of the bullet, and in a split second he’s face-down on the ground.

“Jared!” he screams again, with no response.

At least he can see from here that Jared’s head is still intact, it looks like the bullet went through his shoulder blade instead. He imagines a shattered scapula. Splintered ribs. A collapsed lung. There’s no way that the bullet didn’t make it through Jared’s muscle, cartilage, and bones. But Jared’s a zombie, and as long as his brain doesn’t have a bullet in it, he’ll be fine.

He starts to turn Jared over when his hands feel sticky. Wet and sticky. And warm, more heated than he’s used to Jared feeling. When Jensen pulls them out from underneath Jared’s body, he’s horrified to find that they’re covered with blood. It’s Jared’s blood, and it’s making a steady stream of red down his arm.

 _“No,”_ he yells out loud to no one in particular. “No, no, no.”

He puts his fingers up to where Jared’s carotid artery would be, and finds a pulse for the first time. A very rapid one. _Not good,_ he thinks. A heartbeat this fast, this thready means that Jared’s bleeding out. He’s going into shock from blood loss. _Hemorrhagic shock_ , his brain unhelpfully supplies.

“Dad,” he yells out, putting aside the fact that his father just fucking shot a man in front of him. _Not a zombie, a man_.

“He’s bleeding. Jared’s bleeding out, and we’ve got to help him. Now,” he pleads. His dad wavers for a second until Jensen shows him the evidence of Jared’s blood, and then he radios for immediate help.

Jensen puts pressure on the wound, exactly like he was taught how to do in his first-aid class. Then the doctors arrive, and Jared’s swept out of his arms, onto a gurney, and out of Jensen’s sight.

 

\--

 

By hospital policy, Jensen’s forced to wait until Jared’s stabilized before he’s allowed to visit. After the second day, he sneaks in during the nights to watch the ventilator push Jared’s chest up and down, breathing for him. One of the nurses had told him it was a collapsed lung from where the bullet had pierced. She says he’s lucky Jared got immediate attention. Jensen doesn’t feel lucky now as he sits on the edge of Jared’s white hospital bed, holds his hand, and waits for him to wake up. Somehow, Jared seems deader than he was before.

When Jensen comes back on the fifth night, they’ve pulled the ventilator from Jared’s throat, and he’s resting peacefully.

Placing a kiss directly onto Jared’s lips, Jensen smiles, knowing that Jared’s going to make it. As Jared’s eyelids start to flutter open, Jensen can’t help but say, “Hey there, gorgeous, welcome to the land of the living.”

“Ugh,” Jared groans. His voice is hoarse, like he’s gargled gravel. “Living hurts,” is all he can manage to say.

Jensen kisses him again, this time with response from Jared who licks lazily at his lips. They make out for a while, intent on exchanging flavors and fluids for the first time, until Jensen remembers that it’s probably not a good idea to get Jared worked up.

“Jensen,” Jared whines as he pulls away, stopping to rub his thumb along Jared’s flushed lips. Salmon colored, Jensen decides.

“Shh, we’ve got all the time in the world after you recover.”

Jared doesn’t respond because he’s fallen back asleep. Jensen places his hand over Jared’s chest and feels his heart beating, slow and steady this time around. It feels as if Jensen’s life has just begun.

 

[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/ephermeralk/media/Jared140_zpsaa23a77a.jpg.html)

 

On one pleasant spring afternoon, they finish sweeping the surrounding areas for zombies. After careful study of a more than compliant Jared, the doctors discovered that the virus had resulted from a progressive blocking of oxytocin receptors, also known as the love hormone. They had given some large spiel that Jensen hadn’t fully understood about the hormone getting turned into dopamine within the brain, and the effects of the virus on motor function.  
In the end, they still didn’t know how zombies survived without a beating heart. Fortunately the cure was simple. Find a zombie, dose it with artificial oxytocin, otherwise known as Pitocin, and wait for it to turn human.  
100% effective, but time consuming. It’s taken months to track them all down.

In that time, Jared’s let his hair grow out. He refuses to let Jensen near it, with either a razor or a pair of scissors. Jensen watches as Jared’s hair ruffles in the breeze as he runs up the driveway of an abandoned house. It looks good, he admits, glossy and chestnut brown.

He’s about to call out to Jared and ask him what he’s doing when he sees Jared reach down and pick a light pink peony from a row of falling over bushes as they travel back home from their final mission. He hands it to Jensen.

“Care to watch the wall come down with me tonight?” he asks. “The bombs are set to detonate before sunset, and it should be entertainment, at least.”

“You bringing dinner?” Jensen questions back, wiping a drop of sweat from his face. Their standard issue military uniforms seem to keep the heat inside.

Jared playfully knocks his shoulders against Jensen’s. “Would you come even if I didn’t?”

Jensen reaches down to grasp his hand. “Of course, babe. I even stole a special bottle of whiskey from my dad’s cellar for the occasion.”

“You stole it?” Jared questions. Jensen doesn’t usually admit to stealing. The phrase _I liberated it, Jared_ comes to mind.

Jensen shrugs. “I figure he owes us for shooting you.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jared states.

“You were in the hospital for two weeks. I had to see you get _shot_. Even though I thought you were technically dead at the time.”

Jared doesn’t have anything to say after that, so they walk the rest of the way back in companionable silence, enjoying the feel of the sun on their backs. Jared notices when he leans down to kiss Jensen that the light wind has tinged Jensen’s cheeks cherry red.

“Meet you on top of the abandoned factory in twenty?” he asks Jensen.

Jensen grabs his ass in response.

 

\--

 

They don’t move into Jensen’s old house. Instead they build a new one on the top of a hill, facing east, in the months following the destruction of the wall. Even after the introduction of the oxytocin-based cure, when the thought of zombies has lapsed into an unpleasant memory, there’s still a plethora of rebuilding to be done. Jared’s apprenticing under a carpenter, and Jensen’s time is mostly occupied by studying to be a doctor. He wants to focus his life towards healing children; he’s got an irrational soft spot for treating the kiddos with ear infections.

Jensen only grumbles a little bit when Jared brings home a stray dog from work after they move in together. It’s a scruffy, half-starved mutt.

“Absolutely not, it’s not even domesticated, Jared,” he starts off with, “plus, it’s probably flea ridden with rabies.”

Jared leans down to kiss him. “I was practically flea ridden with rabies when we met, and you still liked me.”

The dog’s sniffing at a house plant in the corner. It starts to lift its leg. Jared claps to get the dog’s attention. It looks up. “No, _bad dog_ ,” he says, before opening the side door to let the mutt out back.

“Yeah, well. You got better. Also, you came already house trained,” Jensen retorts.

“True,” Jared says, “but the little guy needs a home, Jen. He can live outside until he learns.”

“Fine,” Jensen sighs, “he can stay.” He gives in to Jared easily these days.

“You’re too good to me, babe,” Jared mumbles as he continues to kiss Jensen’s mouth. Jared doesn’t stop until Jensen’s lips have swollen up, blood red and spit shiny from his devoted attention.

Jensen rubs his erection against Jared’s and he groans as the friction sends sparks racing through his neurons.

“Show me how good I am, Jared,” He jumps up, and Jared’s hands grab onto his ass, as his ankles lock around Jared’s waist.

“Bed?” Jared asks.

Jensen shakes his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

He follows Jared into their bedroom, hands stuffed into Jared’s back pockets. Once they’re inside he reaches around and undoes Jared’s belt. He pops the button, and slides Jared’s pants to his ankles. Taking his hands out of Jared’s pockets, he walks around to his boyfriend’s front and divests him of his shirt, as Jared works to remove his shoes and socks from his feet. Finally they both manage to get him undressed, and Jensen can’t help touching Jared’s hard dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says to Jared. He runs his hand up and down Jared’s extra-long sized length—something he was slightly worried about at first, but has since come to love. The momentum that Jared can work up while he’s fucking him while still keeping the tip inside of Jensen drives him crazy. But Jensen doesn’t want that tonight.

Once his pants have tented his jeans to the point of pain, he knows it’s time.

“Get on the bed, sweetheart,” he drawls, and Jared scrambles to comply. When Jared’s in position with his back to the head of their bed, Jensen decides it’s time to play.

“Ok, here are the rules. You guess the sex act I have planned for tonight, and I take all my clothes off. If you don’t guess it right in five tries, you turn around and I get to fuck you with all my clothes on. Deal?”

Jared strokes his cock lazily enough that Jensen can imagine the steady stream of pleasure that’s obscuring Jared’s higher thinking. He considers Jensen’s game before agreeing, “Deal.”

Jensen can’t help but climb up on the bed in between Jared’s splayed legs and kiss him while he thinks through what he considers to be Jensen’s favorite sex acts.

Finally, he pulls back, and says, “Rimming. You want me to stick my tongue so far up your ass that you start to think it’s my dick.”

It’s a good guess, but not what Jensen wants to do tonight. “Nope. Try again.”

“Is this a trick question, babe? You want me to turn around so that you can fuck me, while I’m naked and you’ve still got your clothes on?”

Jensen kisses Jared for that, because it’s an out of the box guess. Still not what Jensen had planned. “Nope. That’s two out of three.”

“You want to ride my dick backwards cowboy style until you come without a hand on your dick,” Jared says smiling, quicker with his answer this time.

Jensen laughs, “No sweetie, that’s what you want. But I’m going to give you a hint. It doesn’t involve actual penetration.”

Jared’s eyes light up, then. “Sixty-nine!” he yells, knowing he’s won. Jensen’s really fucking glad they don’t have neighbors.

“Yahtzee.”

“You lose. Clothes off now,” Jared says, impatient to get his dick in Jensen’s mouth. He moves down on the bed, making sure that Jensen will have enough room to climb on top of him.

“I’m pretty sure we both win.”

“Mmm,” Jared murmurs. “Hurry up, my dick’s getting cold.”

Jensen strips quickly before jumping back on the bed and swinging a bowed thigh directly over Jared’s mouth. He feels a drop of his pre-come blurting out of his dick and fall onto what he’s sure are Jared’s lips. Not that he can see.

“God, Jen, you’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you yet,” Jared says huskily.

Jensen’s ready for less talking, so he takes the first initiative and grasps onto the base of Jared’s cock, guiding it into his mouth. He gives it a hard suck, which has Jared groaning. Just as Jensen’s ready to reach down and put his dick into Jared’s mouth himself, Jared grabs onto his dick, and rubs the head across his lips, tongue dipping out to catch any excess fluid.

When Jared finally guides Jensen’s dick into his mouth, Jensen flicks his tongue under the head of Jared’s dick, urging him to do the same. Soon, Jared starts to thrust up, trying to force his dick down Jensen’s throat, and Jensen has to pin Jared’s hip bones to the bed with a forearm in order to keep from gagging.

Jared lets him hump his mouth until his thrusts start becoming erratic, and then he pulls back. He jacks Jensen’s cock quickly and efficiently, making sure that when Jensen comes it’s all over his face. After he’s gotten Jensen off, Jared proceeds to fuck his now lax throat until he orgasms deep inside, keeping his dick in Jensen’s mouth, waiting for Jensen to swallow all of his spunk before he pulls out.

“Fuck, Jensen. How did I not guess that first?”

“We can’t all be geniuses,” Jensen says, moving his body to face Jared.

He groans as he licks the first strand of his come off of Jared’s cheek. Alternating between pressing his tongue against Jared’s face and running his index finger over the white globs and feeding them to Jared, they manage to clean Jared’s face.

Jensen allows Jared to move him until he’s lying in the little spoon position. He doesn’t mind. Honestly, it’s a pain in the ass trying to wrangle Jared in that particular position. And then Jared wakes up grumpy as fuck in the morning. So Jensen lets him win this battle.

“Jensen?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

They’ve always dodged around saying those three words. Words that mean more than lust, or sex, or general like. It seems stupid, because they’ve both nearly laid down their lives for one another on multiple occasions.

“I love you too, Jared.”

The words come out easier than expected, and he feels Jared exhale a sigh of relief from behind him.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he says, making sure that Jared knows that he means it. That he didn’t just say those words out of obligation.

“Yeah, me too.”

 

\--

 

On the day that Jared asks Jensen to marry him, he brings home a hamster.  
Jared bends down on one knee and says, “Jensen Ackles. Your love literally brought me back to life, and I don’t know how to be alive without you, will you marry me?”

Jensen’s about to say ‘yes’, when Jared holds out a small furry creature.

“I’m hoping that in lieu of a ring, you’ll accept this hamster instead. I know she’s not shiny, and you can’t put her on your finger, but she’s alive and full of promise, just like us. She’s got reddish spots, and she’s a pretty feisty little thing. I thought we could name her Danni.”

“Double yes. Yes, I’ll marry you, and yes I accept her.” He swallows back a lump in his throat before continuing, “And Danni is of course, a perfect name for our first hamster.”

Pausing for a moment to think about the reality of getting married, Jensen cringes for a second. “Speaking of getting hitched, do we have to invite Chad?”

“I’m asking him to be my best man, Jensen. Hell--if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here.”

Jensen sighs. “Fine, but you know, if he makes _even one_ necrophilia joke during our wedding…”

Jared finishes his sentence “... you get full rights to punching him in the face, and I have to bottom for the next month.”

It’s not the first time they’ve had this discussion.

Jensen reaches out and the little animal scurries into the palm of his hand. He gently deposits her into the small terrarium that Jared had inconspicuously brought into their house a few days earlier, stating it was a project for work.

“Now, let’s go have some hot premarital sex before we tell everyone and start having to make wedding plans,” Jensen says jokingly.

Jared grins mischievously, his dimples coming out to play, before he smacks Jensen’s ass lightly and runs into the bedroom yelling, “Last one on the bed has to give the first blow job!”

Jensen takes his time coming.  


\--END--


End file.
